


This Feeling

by LeilahMoon



Series: Slow Grenade [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 29,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilahMoon/pseuds/LeilahMoon
Summary: ---Part IIHogwarts: Years Four to Six---The title for this work comes from ‘This Feeling’ by the Chainsmokers ft. Kelsea Ballerini---Although each follows on from the other, you don’t need to have read Part I to understand Part II. Aside from Hermione and Draco’s friendship, the story is pretty close to being canon.---
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Slow Grenade [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904425
Comments: 209
Kudos: 345





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters in this story are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling. I definitely do not own Harry Potter (if only). I have also, at times, taken exact quotations from the books to highlight how things can be interpreted differently from another's perspective.

It was the summer before Hermione’s fourth year at Hogwarts and she was with Ginny at the Burrow. They were laid head to toe on Ginny’s small bed, chatting about the holidays and what they were looking forward to most about going back to Hogwarts.

When the redhead skilfully turned the conversation to boys, Hermione started to zone out and gaze around the bedroom. It was tiny, but very cosy, and had an incredible view over the Weasley’s wild garden. Whilst Ginny lamented the pink walls she had chosen as a child ( _“it clashes dreadfully with my hair!”_ ), Hermione felt comforted by its innocence.

Ginny suddenly paused her discussion of who was more dateable, Dean Thomas or Seamus Finnigan, and sat bolt upright. “Something’s happening downstairs,” she announced.

Hermione couldn’t hear anything but nodded anyway; having come from a family of six boys, Ginny had picked up some impressive skills, heightened hearing being one of them.

They both got out of bed, crept down the rickety staircase, and quietly stepped into the kitchen. The two girls beamed as they glimpsed the new arrival and Hermione couldn’t help noticing a distinct blush creep into Ginny’s cheeks when Harry smiled back at her.

“Tell me _what_ , Arthur?” said Mrs Weasley, in a dangerous sort of voice.

“It’s nothing, Molly,” mumbled Mr Weasley. “Fred and George just… but I’ve had words with them.”

“What have they done this time? If it’s got anything to do with _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_ –”

Hermione decided this was the point to cut in and save her two friends. “Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?” she suggested.

“He knows where he’s sleeping,” Ron replied. “In my room, he slept there last –”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione tried again, “we can _all_ go.”

“Oh,” said Ron, finally cottoning on. “Right.”

“Yeah, we’ll come too,” George chipped in.

“ _You stay where you are!_ ” snarled Mrs Weasley.

Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen and the four of them set off along the narrow hallway and headed up the stairs towards Ron’s bedroom. It was three floors above Ginny’s, right at the top of the house, and yet shouts from the kitchen still echoed up to them.

The only way Hermione could describe Ron’s room was, chaotic. Almost every surface was covered in merchandise from his favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, which rendered the entire room orange. It was especially cramped as four extra beds had been squeezed into the already small bedroom; all the Weasleys had returned to the Burrow, ready for the Quidditch World Cup final tomorrow.

* * *

Everyone was relieved to finally arrive at the campsite the next day, it had been a stressful morning. Mrs Weasley noticed the twins sneaking their new creation, Ton-Tongue Toffees, out of the house and had severely admonished them.

Luckily, the group still made it to the Portkey on time and were now trudging up a misty field between long rows of tents. They had reached the very edge of a wooded area and, here, was an empty space with a small sign hammered into the ground which read 'Weezly'.

“Couldn’t have a better spot!” said Mr Weasley, happily. “Right, we’ll be putting these tents up by hand, no magic allowed! Shouldn’t be too difficult... Harry, where do you reckon we should start?”

In the end, Hermione helped Mr Weasley with the poles and pegs and, though he was more of a hindrance than a help because he got thoroughly over-excited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

Harry gave her a quizzical look as they both wondered how everyone was going to fit. Hermione shrugged and followed a crawling Mr Weasley through one of the tent flaps. She felt her jaw drop and gasped as she walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-roomed flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.

“It reminds me of the TARDIS,” she whispered to Harry.

After a quick tour of the girls’ tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys’, Hermione, Harry, and Ron set off across the campsite in search of water. They made their way slowly through the tent rows, staring eagerly around. Wizarding families with small children were everywhere and salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise.

Despite her initial hesitations, Hermione was pleased that she had agreed to attend the event. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed she hadn’t spotted Draco anywhere yet. Although he hadn’t mentioned anything, she imagined it wasn’t something he or his family would miss.

The trio had hardly any time back at the tent after returning with the water before a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods. At once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the pitch.

“It’s time!” breathed Mr Weasley. “Come on, let’s go!”

* * *

They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Hermione overheard Mr Weasley behind her telling Harry it could seat one hundred thousand people.

Upon showing their tickets, the group clambered up numerous stairs and eventually found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium. The Weasleys began filling the first two rows of seats whilst Hermione sat between Harry and Ron in the second row.

The atmosphere was incredible. Hermione could barely take everything in as she gazed out over the pitch. Directly opposite their box was an enormous blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it advertising a variety of wizarding products she had never even heard of before.

Realising that Harry was talking to someone, Hermione dragged her eyes away from the sights in front of her and spun around in her seat. There, in the furthest corner to the back, was a tiny house-elf curled up in the chair wearing a tea-towel draped like a toga. They learnt that the little creature was called Winky and hated heights, Hermione felt incredibly sorry for her. Winky eventually hid her face again and they turned back to skim through their programmes.

The box filled gradually around them over the next half an hour. Hermione wasn’t paying attention to the new arrivals until she heard: “ah, and here’s Lucius!”

Quickly turning again, she saw Draco edging towards the seat behind hers, his parents in tow. With so many others in close proximity, Hermione had to force away the grin that threatened to break free. She glanced towards Lucius whose cold eyes were narrowed towards Mr Weasley.

“Good Lord, Arthur,” he said softly. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Lucius didn’t wait for a response; he had already turned to glare at Hermione. She went slightly pink but took comfort in Draco being so close and stared determinedly back at him.

“Slimy gits,” Ron muttered, as he, Hermione, and Harry turned to face the pitch again.

Next moment, Ludo Bagman had charged into the box. “Everyone ready?” he said, his round face gleaming.

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” replied Fudge.

Whipping out his wand, Ludo directed it at his own throat. He said " _Sonorus!"_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

* * *

Hermione lay in her bunk that night replaying every incredible moment of the match. She wasn’t as enthralled as the others about all the different moves (wonky what?), but even she could appreciate the skill involved and dance-like quality with which the players moved.

She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard Mr Weasley shouting urgently for them all to get up. Hermione and Ginny shared a worried look and got quickly dressed.

Stepping outside, they saw that not far from their tent was a crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upwards. Their heads were hooded, their faces masked, and high above them floated four struggling figures that were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Hermione gasped as she realised they were Muggles.

On the advice of Mr Weasley, she, Harry, and Ron rushed towards the woods and began to regroup when Ron swore behind them. “Tripped over a tree-root,” he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” a voice drawled from the shadows.

Hermione knew who it was immediately and spun around. Draco was standing alone nearby them, leaning casually against a tree. He looked utterly relaxed to anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did. Hermione could sense his anxiety by the tightness of his jaw and darkness in his eyes.

“Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like _her_ spotted, would you?”

Draco nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione said defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after _Muggles_ ,” he replied, his eyes imploring her to understand. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around… they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

“Hermione’s a witch,” Harry snarled.

Draco was really starting to lose his patience. Did these two morons not realise the danger that Hermione was in? He was so close to just pulling her into his arms and carrying her as far away as possible. Becoming desperate, he knew what he had to say next to get them moving. “Have it your own way, Potter,” Draco spat. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.”

Despite the pain he saw in her eyes, it was worth it to keep her safe.


	2. Chapter 2

Seated within the familiar confines of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione was finally starting to feel safe again. The events that had taken place after the Quidditch World Cup were frightening and had set everyone on edge.

Hermione recalled the moment that she, Harry, and Ron heard a voice in the woods utter ‘ _Morsmordre_ ’, and witnessed the looks of fear etched into the Ministry wizard’s faces as they surrounded the trio just moments later. She was adamant that Winky had absolutely nothing to do with the conjuring of the illuminous skull, but no one would hear otherwise.

Beginning to feel helpless again, Hermione was determined to claw back a semblance of control; her current focus was going to be house-elves and their rights. She was itching to get straight back into the library and start researching. Knowing Draco would be in there too filled her with equal parts excitement and nerves. They needed to have a conversation not only about the word he promised never to use in front of her again, but also his father.

The Weasleys had talked at length about Death Eaters and their role as You-Know-Who’s supporters. Was Lucius Malfoy one of the hooded wizards using the Muggles as playthings? And what would it mean for Draco if You-Know-Who _was_ able to return to his own body and full strength? Whilst Hermione prayed this would never happen, she couldn’t shift the sense of foreboding that had lodged itself in her stomach.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express eventually slowed down and came to a stop in the pitch-black darkness of Hogsmeade station, finally bringing Hermione out from her reverie. As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead and rain began coming down thick and fast. One hundred horseless carriages stood waiting and Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them.

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Hermione could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds of floating candles. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students and, at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils.

Hermione was enthralled throughout the Sorting Hat’s song and then its subsequent decision making. She caught Draco’s eye across the table as the feast appeared and couldn’t help but blush; he was looking incredibly handsome. Through the low lighting in the woods, alongside his unpleasant words, Hermione hadn’t noticed the changes brought on by the summer holidays.

How it was possible that Draco had gotten even taller, she wasn’t sure. His hair was a little longer and his white fringe fell perfectly to frame his face. Although Hermione had previously teased him about his sharp features, he had grown into them. She shivered slightly wondering what it would feel like to run her fingers along his angular jaw.

It was Dumbledore beginning his speech that meant Hermione finally pulled her eyes away from him. Chiding herself for being distracted by a _boy_ of all things, she refocused.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

Beside her Harry gasped, “ _what?_ ”

Dumbledore continued, “this is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” said Fred Weasley, loudly. 

Nearly everyone laughed, and even Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively before carrying on to explain what the Triwizard Tournament involved and how to take part. Hermione almost sagged with relief when she heard there would be an age restriction. She wasn’t sure she could take another year of worrying about her friends.

* * *

A few days later, as Hermione walked to meet Harry and Ron in the queue to enter the Great Hall for dinner, she overheard familiar voices arguing. Draco was flapping a copy of the Daily Prophet around while Harry had grabbed onto Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Draco. Hermione quickly jumped in to help restrain the redhead and Harry smiled gratefully at her.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," he said through gritted teeth. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?" sneered Draco. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

Hermione looked at him in shock: even she was surprised at the harshness of his words.

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" Harry shot back. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Draco went slightly pink, "don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then."

BANG!

Several people screamed and Hermione watched a flash of red graze the side of Harry's face. He plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, there was a second loud 'BANG', and a roar echoed through the Entrance Hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Hermione, Harry, and Ron spun around. Professor Moody, the new DADA teacher, was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing directly at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Draco had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the Entrance Hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. He turned to look at Harry; at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry, the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled, his voice low and gravelly.

"No," replied Harry. "He missed."

Moody limped heavily towards the ferret which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking towards the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared the Professor, pointing his wand at the ferret again. It flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upwards once more. "I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned." The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked McGonagall rushing down the corridor.

"Hello," he replied calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?"

"Teaching."

"Teach - Moody, _is that a student?_ " shrieked Professor McGonagall.

"Yep."

"No!" she cried, now running, pulling out her wand. A moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco had re-appeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

Professors McGonagall and Moody exchanged stern words whilst the students gathered around them exploded with laughter. Hermione could not believe what she had just witnessed. She couldn’t see Draco anymore and really hoped he had gone to seek sanctuary in their library nook. Making up an excuse to leave, Hermione slipped away.


	3. Chapter 3

Rounding the final library corner, Hermione found Draco sat gingerly in an armchair. Acting on impulse, she leant over him and started checking his body for bruises. “Merlin, Draco, are you okay?” she whispered.

He flinched as she touched him, but shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not, come on, we need to go and see Madam Pomfrey.”

“No, Granger, I don’t want to,” Draco said firmly.

She sat on the arm of his chair, gripping her hands together to stop herself from running her hands through his hair.

“That was awful,” Hermione breathed. “I can’t _believe_ he did that to you, he’s a _Professor_ for Godric’s sake. You could have been seriously injured.”

Draco was angry; he wanted to take it out on someone. “Granger, stop. If you’re going to fuss, I might as well go to Pansy.”

“Yes, right,” she replied and moved to the seat opposite. “So, why were you goading Ron this time?”

“I knew it. It’s always my fault isn’t it? Did I _deserve_ what I got? I’m surprised you’re even talking to me after what I called you at the World Cup.”

There was a pause. Hermione tilted her head. “What is this really about, Draco?”

He scowled and remained silent.

Eventually, Hermione padded back over to him and sat on the arm of his chair again. To both of their surprise, Draco pulled her onto his lap and buried his head in her neck. She sat awkwardly for a moment before leaning into his chest.

“My father was one of the Death Eaters torturing Muggles after the Quidditch World Cup.”

“I wondered whether that might be the case.”

Draco sighed, “all summer he’s been having these ‘meetings’ with other people I can only assume must also be Death Eaters. He – he asked me to join them sometimes. Luckily, I had plausible excuses each time, but what happens when I don’t? What happens when I’m expected to be there? Why don’t I get a fucking choice?”

Hermione wished she knew what to say to make it better, but she couldn't think of anything. So she just pushed her body closer to him and he tightened his arms around her.

“So, when _Moody_ did that to me, I just thought, here it goes again, yet another aspect of my life I have no control over. And will there be any retribution for it? I doubt it. No one gives a crap about me. Just imagine if a teacher did that to _Saint Potter_ , they’d probably be in Azkaban by now.”

“Draco –“, Hermione breathed. “I care. I care about all of those things. I care about you.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Maybe, but who am I to you really, in the scheme of things. You’ve got Potter and Weasley.”

Draco’s warm breath tickled her cheek, she could smell peppermint. Hermione wanted to show him how much he meant to her. That yes, Harry and Ron were her friends, but Draco was more than that. She glanced down at his lips and her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could feel it.

She swallowed, unable to summon her Gryffindor courage. “You’re my best friend, Draco.”

He leant back; the moment, lost.

“Yeah, okay,” Draco sought for a change of subject. “What’s in the box?”

Hermione recovered quickly. Leaving the safety of his lap she stood up and sat again in the chair opposite, lifting the aforementioned box from her satchel. She took off the lid and showed him the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colours, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

“Spew?” he asked, picking up a badge. “What’s this about?”

“Not _spew_ ,” Hermione replied, primly. “It’s S – P – E – W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

“I’ve not heard of that before.”

“No, well you wouldn’t have. I’ve only just started it.”

Draco frowned, “how many members do you have?”

“Well, if you join, two.”

Hermione brandished a sheaf of parchment at him. “I’ve been researching it thoroughly. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can’t believe no one’s done anything before now.”

“You know they like the way things are? After Potter wrongly freed Dobby, our other elves were in uproar about it.”

She narrowed her eyes but chose not to broach the Malfoy elves just yet. Recalling Draco’s earlier comments, she said, “don’t they deserve a choice?”

He glowered, “are you sure you weren’t meant to be in Slytherin?”

“Two sickles to join, that buys a badge, and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign.”

* * *

It was Friday the 30th of October, and delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were due to be arriving at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament at any moment.

The evening was cold and clear; dusk had almost fallen and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Hermione was standing between Harry and Ron, shivering in anticipation for the new arrivals.

“Nearly six,” said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive which led to the front gates. “How d’you reckon they’re coming? The train?”

“I doubt it,” Hermione replied.

“How then? Broomsticks?” suggested Harry, looking up at the starry sky.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; all was still, silent, and quite as usual. Hermione was beginning to feel cold and wished the two schools would hurry up.

She didn’t have to wait long before each arrived with grand finesse: one enormous horse drawn carriage and another magnificent ship that rose from the lake.

After some time, all students were seated back in the Great Hall. Hermione was already exasperated at Harry and Ron’s fascination with Viktor Krum. She could acknowledge that he _was_ very skilled at the world cup, and he _might_ be somewhat attractive, but at least she could remain composed in his presence.

“The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” Dumbledore announced. “I invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently coloured uniforms stood out so clearly against the Hogwarts robes.

Hermione kept glancing over at the Slytherin table towards Draco, they had barely spoken since she hadn’t been able to garner the courage to kiss him. She wondered whether he was avoiding her. Every time she attempted to make eye contact, she ended up with Krum’s attention instead, why did he keep smiling at her?

The feast eventually came to an end and Dumbledore stood again to address the room. “As you know, three Champions compete in the Tournament, one from each participating school. The Champions will be chosen by an impartial selector… the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of a nondescript casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Reaching inside, he pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable, had it not been full to the brim with dancing, blue-white flames.

Placing the Goblet carefully on top of the casket, Dumbledore continued, “anybody wishing to submit themselves as Champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it in here.”

The noise of chattering in the Great Hall slowly rose as students grew increasingly more excited. Hermione rolled her eyes as she overheard Fred and George Weasley's ideas to manipulate the age line around the Goblet. " _It'll never work_ ," she crooned.


	4. Chapter 4

The occupants of Hogwarts had only one day to wait before Dumbledore announced the Champions. When Hermione, Harry, and Ron entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of the teacher’s table. 

Taking their usual seats, Hermione caught Draco’s eye across the room. He glanced down at his chest to a small badge with S.P.E.W. emblazoned across the centre. Not caring who was watching, she beamed. The corner of Draco’s mouth twitched as he then briefly turned his head from left to right. Hermione almost gasped with realisation; her badge was attached to the robes of every student in Slytherin. She tilted her head, wondering how he had managed such a feat.

“Hermione?” Ron elbowed her gently. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” she paused, suddenly thinking. “Hey, can you see the badges all the Slytherins are wearing?”

He peered over and said derisively, “we already know they’re all snakes, why do they need a badge to prove it?”

Draco’s eyes glittered mischievously as he caught the moment she understood. He had enchanted the badges to look like snakes to anyone but them. It really was quite an impressive display of charm-work, if he did say so himself.

Pansy Parkinson noticed Hermione looking over and, shifting closer to Draco, she puffed out her chest, delighted with the badge he had gifted her. Hermione couldn’t help but snort with laughter as she took in the image of Pansy, sporting Elfish welfare attire. Even Draco was struggling to keep a straight face.

Suddenly, almost all noise ceased and heads spun to the front of the Hall. Dumbledore got slowly to his feet and gazed around the students, smiling genially. “Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” he said. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the Champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber –” he indicated the door behind the staff table, “– where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles dimmed. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the room, the sparking bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out from it; the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue white. “The Champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

A storm of applause and cheering erupted across the Hall. Following a similar pattern of silence and commotion, the two remaining Champions were announced: Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily, as at last the tumult died down. “Well, now we have our three Champions, I am sure I can count upon all of you to give every ounce of support you can muster in the tasks to come. By cheering the Champions on, you will contribute in a very real –”

The Headmaster suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the Goblet had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which the wizard simply stared at the slip in his palm.

Eventually he cleared his throat and read out, “ _Harry Potter_.”

* * *

Hermione was aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at Harry. There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the room; some students were standing up to get a better look at him as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall stood and walked to whisper urgently with Dumbledore, who bent his ear towards her, frowning slightly.

Hermione absently noticed Harry turn to her and Ron. “I didn’t put my name in,” he said. “You know I didn’t.”

“Harry Potter!” the Headmaster called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please.”

“Go on,” Hermione whispered, giving him a slight push.

Harry got to his feet and Hermione’s heart sank as she watched him stumble away. It wasn’t just the students staring at him, so were the teachers. She worried at her lip, knowing how awful he must be feeling in this moment.

Turning to Ron, she went to speak but paused when she saw his expression. Staring down at the table, hands clenched tightly together, Ron’s forehead was furrowed into a deep scowl and his lips pursed.

The occupants of the Great Hall had begun to vacate so Hermione nudged him with her shoulder. “Shall we go up?” she asked.

“Go where?” he replied, blankly.

“To the common room…?”

“Right, okay.”

As they stood, Hermione tried again, “are you okay, Ron?”

He glowered at her, “of course I’m bloody well not. What did he use, the Invisibility Cloak?”

“What are you talking about? Harry clearly had no more idea than any of us that his name had been entered into the Goblet.”

“Yeah, right. I thought he might’ve told me, especially if it was the cloak. It would’ve covered both of us.”

“Ron, honestly, did you see his face? He looked devastated.”

He smirked nastily, “only incase he got into trouble for it. I’m sure he’s just been dying for some more attention this year.”

With that, Ron stalked off leaving Hermione to make her own way to the common room. He was nowhere to be found when she pushed through the portrait hole so she went up to bed, determined to sort out this mess in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione awoke early to fetch some toast from the Great Hall before heading back to the common room to wait for Harry. As she neared the portrait hole, she came face to face with him hurriedly stepping out.

“Hello,” she said, holding up her breakfast offering. “I brought you this… want to go for a walk?”

“Yes, please,” he replied gratefully.

They went downstairs, crossed the Entrance Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn towards the lake. It was a cold morning but they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he had left the Gryffindor table the night before.

“Well, of course I knew you hadn’t entered yourself,” she said, when he’d finished telling her about the scene in the portrait room, off the Hall. “As I told Ron, the look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who _did_ put it in? Moody’s right, Harry… I don’t think any student could have done it, they’d never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore’s age line.”

“Have you seen Ron this morning?” Harry asked, abruptly.

Hermione hesitated, “um… yes, he was at breakfast.”

“Does he still think I entered myself?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so,” she said awkwardly. “Not _really_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, not _really?_ ”

“Oh, Harry, isn’t it obvious? He’s jealous.”

“ _Jealous?_ ” Harry cried. “Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?”

“Look,” said Hermione patiently, “it’s always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it’s not your fault,” she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously, “I know you don’t ask for it, but, well… you know, Ron’s got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you’re his best friend, and you’re really famous. He’s always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many.”

“Great,” said Harry bitterly. “Really great. Tell him from me I’ll swap any time he wants. Tell him he’s welcome to it; people gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…”

“I’m not telling him anything. Tell him yourself, it’s the only way to sort it.”

“No, I’m not running around after him trying to make him grow up!”

Hermione sighed, she understood where Harry was coming from. It really wasn’t fair for Ron to blame him but she knew, from first-hand experience, how stubborn they both could be.

* * *

As time went on, Hermione became even more keenly aware of how difficult things were for Harry since the announcement. The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold towards the whole lot of them.

Under normal circumstances, she (and Harry) would be looking forward to seeing Hagrid in Care of Magical Creatures but, unfortunately, they still had this class with the Slytherins. Hermione knew that Draco would have been devising ways to taunt Harry and she was too tired to deal with it.

Since Harry had been named a Champion, she had had to sit between him and Ron in every lesson. Although they both answered her normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other and the conversation was very forced.

Predictably, Draco sauntered over to the three of them, Hermione noticed his carefully positioned sneer.

“Ah, look boys, it’s the Champion,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, the moment he got within earshot of Harry. “Are you scared you might lose the _prestigious_ title of ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ if you don’t continually fling yourself into life-threatening situations, Potter?”

Fortunately, Draco had to stop there because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin. Hermione sighed with relief.

* * *

Hermione sat herself in their nook a few evenings later. She was trying not to feel hurt, but it wasn’t really working.

Harry had confided in her that the past few days had been his worst at Hogwarts. He was feeling lonely and ostracised. From her own past experiences, Hermione understood this. What she found difficult was Harry’s insistence that Ron had to be by his side in order to cope.

Throughout the whole ordeal, she had tried her best to support and distract him, but apparently that wasn’t enough.

“You alright, Granger?” said Draco, strolling over.

She shrugged, no one had asked her this question for quite some time; it caused tears to begin welling up behind her eyes.

“Hermione?” he said, more gently this time, sitting next to her.

Everything spilled out quickly, “they’ve ignored me for weeks at a time before, but I don’t think _they_ ever felt lonely because of it. So, Harry feels lonely without Ron, but doesn’t care when I’m not there? Or actually, still feels lonely when I _am_ there?”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, reaching out for her. “You know I don’t like them, but there’s no excuse for the way they treat you sometimes."

Hermione laced her fingers through his and gazed down at their entwined hands, surprised at how normal it felt. “Do you feel the same as Harry and Ron? Does it matter to you whether I’m around or not?” she asked.

The butterflies in Draco’s stomach began to waltz. “Of course it does. There’s nothing I want more, than to be with you.”

Her heart leaped into her throat, they’d never spoken like this before. “Really?”

“Yes, Hermione. Sometimes I wonder whether they just see you as a constant, they always assume you’re going to be there. For me, well, I don’t take you for granted. Every moment I spend with you… it’s important.”

They looked at each other. For the second time, she wished for the strength to lean in closer. Their lips were just centimetres apart, but it felt like miles. Instead, she changed the subject.

Putting her hands on her hips in mock annoyance she said, "so, what happened to my badges, Malfoy?"

“Oh yeah, ‘ _POTTER STINKS_ ’,” he chuckled. “He deserves it!"

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Impressive charm-work though, right?" Draco said, smiling proudly.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Five points to Slytherin."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few short scenes for this chapter... and THEN, we know what's coming up...!

Hermione was torn between either killing Draco Malfoy or finally kissing him. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had been waiting outside Snape’s dungeon when he and Harry began drawing their wands on each other.

“Go on then, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Moody’s not here to look after you now – do it, if you’ve got the guts.”

For a split second, they looked into each other’s eyes and then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

“ _Furnunculus!_ ” Harry yelled.

“ _Densaugeo!_ ” screamed Draco.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in mid-air, and ricocheted off at angles. Harry’s hit Goyle in the face, and Draco’s hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up; Hermione, whimpering in panic, clutched her mouth.

Thus, here she was, yet again, in the hospital wing. Draco’s spell had caused her front teeth to grow at an alarming rate. After Snape’s derogatory comments, she had raced immediately to Madam Pomfrey.

When the Matron began to shrink her teeth and told Hermione to say stop when they were back to how they normally were, she… just let her carry on a bit.

Hermione wasn’t sure how Draco had managed to wait outside the ward for her without being spotted, but there he was; leaning against the wall and looking frustratingly attractive. As soon as she walked into the corridor, he stood bolt upright.

“You’re alright?”

“Yes, clearly,” she replied, marching away.

“Please, Hermione, I didn’t mean to!”

“I realise that.”

Whilst, overall, she was feeling very pleased with her current dental situation, she wasn’t going to let him get away with hexing her that easily.

Not even checking for other people, Draco caught Hermione’s arm to prevent her from racing off. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I’ll have a think and let you know.”

Hermione flounced down the corridor, sending him a smirk over her shoulder. Draco groaned; he’d created a monster.

* * *

The evening of the first task came around alarmingly fast. Hermione was walking down to the stadium reflecting on the whirlwind that had been the last few days.

Harry had come to her on Sunday morning and explained all about the dragons he had witnessed in the Forbidden Forest. They had spent every moment since then in the library, desperately trying to think of a spell that would subdue such a creature, and not been particularly successful.

Luckily, Professor Moody had shared some last-minute wisdom with Harry and, as such, she had spent hours with him the previous night practising a Summoning Charm. It was after two in the morning before they headed to bed, so Hermione was exhausted and filled with anxious energy.

She and Ron filed into their seats with the other Gryffindors. The stands overlooked a large enclosure composed of jagged rocks, tree stumps, and other dangerous looking debris.

Clutching her hands together in terror, Hermione watched as Cedric, Fleur, Viktor, and, lastly, Harry faced their respective dragons. She kept glancing at Ron who was turning increasingly ashen. Manoeuvring herself closer to him, Hermione bumped his shoulder and he smiled at her gratefully.

When Harry was caught by the Hungarian Horntail’s long spikes, Hermione gasped audibly and unconsciously gripped Ron’s knee. Draco was glowering a few rows behind them; he wished _he_ could breath fire too.

Finally, it was over. The crowd cheered and applauded.

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg!”

Hermione stood up and, dragging Ron with her, raced to the Champion’s tent.

“Harry, you were brilliant!”

But he was looking at Ron, who was still incredibly pale. “Harry,” he said, very seriously, “whoever put your name in that Goblet – I – I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”

“Caught on, have you?” he replied coldly. “Took you long enough.”

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” Harry said, before Ron could get any words out. “Forget it.”

“No, I shouldn’t have…”

“Honestly, _forget it_.”

Ron grinned hesitantly at him, and Harry mirrored the expression. Hermione, on the other hand, flung her arms around both of them. “You two are _so stupid_!” she cried.

After the scores had been announced, the three strolled back up to the castle together. Hermione bouncing happily in the middle of them.

* * *

Draco was becoming increasingly frustrated with Viktor Krum. Since the first task, every time he sought Hermione out in _their_ library nook, said Quidditch player was always lurking. He didn’t think Krum had ever actually gone to sit with her, but his perpetual presence ensured Draco could never take his usual seat.

After a few days of this, he decided to make a stand. Prior to entering the library, Draco informed a group of giggling girls that Viktor Krum was in there and, without further encouragement, they rushed inside. Less than five minutes later, the Champion made his great escape.

Draco smirked and sauntered over to his rightful position beside Hermione. “Granger,” he nodded.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Malfoy.”

“Why is Krum hanging around here so much?”

Hermione couldn’t prevent the furious blush that crept into her cheeks. “Oh, no reason.”

“You’re quite clearly lying.”

“Well… h- he asked me to be his date to the Yule Ball.”

Draco’s heart plummeted as he stared at her. He supposed he should have expected it.

“Are you okay?” she queried. “You look like you might be having some sort of seizure.”

“Yes, yes, fine. I’ll be going with Pansy, I imagine.”

It was Hermione’s turn to stare, her eye twitched slightly. “Oh yes, lovely.”

Draco had been sat for less than ten minutes but stood abruptly and cleared his throat, “right, well, I best be off. Goodnight.”

She watched him practically hurl himself from the library. Hermione wasn’t inclined to stop him.


	7. Chapter 7

Hogwarts had never seen so many students put their names down to stay in the castle for Christmas. Everyone in fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and all anyone could talk about was the Yule Ball. Hermione adored the decorations that had been erected for the occasion. They were, by far, the most incredible she had yet seen inside the school.

Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armour had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them.

It was less than a week before the ball and Hermione was climbing through the portrait hall to the Gryffindor common room. She smiled, finding Ginny crying with laughter on one of the huge sofas.

“What’s going on?”

Through tears of hysteria, Ginny gasped, “only Ron… asking Fleur… to the ball… in front of _everyone_.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprised. “What happened?”

“She said no, of course,” Ron muttered, head in his hands.

“Cho said no to me too, mate.” Harry told his friend.

Hermione briefly glanced at Ginny, sympathy in her eyes, as the redhead abruptly stopped laughing.

“This is mad,” said Ron. “We’re the only ones left you haven’t got anyone, well, except Neville. We heard he asked _you_ , Hermione? But you turned him down because you’re going with someone else?”

“Yes, I am,” she replied, stiffly.

“No, you’re not!” Ron continued, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable atmosphere settling over the group. “You just said that to get rid of Neville.”

“Oh, _did_ I?” said Hermione, her eyes flashing dangerously. “What makes you think that, Ronald?”

He ignored her, “oh, come on, we need partners, we’re going to look really stupid if we haven’t got any, everyone has…”

“I’ve already told you. I’m going with someone,” she said icily and strode off towards the girls’ dormitories.

Heading up the stairs and into the cosy bedroom, Hermione lay heavily on her four-poster and sighed frustratedly. Although she didn’t appreciate her image as someone entirely lacking feminine wiles, she wasn’t actually annoyed at Ron. It was just that, since finding out that Draco was taking Pansy to the ball, Hermione could hardly stand to hear any more discussion of the damned event.

* * *

Christmas Day arrived, and Hermione had an enjoyable day with Harry and the Weasleys. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then headed to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch.

They went into the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione and Ginny chose to watch the resultant snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o’clock said they were going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.

“How are you feeling... about this evening?” Hermione asked Ginny as they traipsed up to the common room.

“You know I’d rather be there with someone else,” she shrugged. “But, I’m excited all the same."

“Good, I’m pleased,” Hermione gave a small smile.

Ginny looked at her shrewdly, “you’d rather a different date too, wouldn’t you?”

Not for the first time in her life, Hermione cursed the rapid blush that she could never prevent staining her cheeks. Luckily, they had reached the portrait hole and she pushed forcefully through it, ignoring Ginny’s question.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m here, if you ever do.”

“Thanks, Gin.”

There were no opportunities for Ginny to press her further as the Gryffindor girls feverishly prepared for their evening. Hermione was not usually one for spending hours getting ‘dolled up’ but was pleased to have an outlet for her nervous energy.

Ginny spent a significant period of time charming Hermione’s hair to fall sleekly below her shoulders, before twisting it up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. When she saw the finished product, Hermione gasped, “oh, it looks beautiful, thank you.”

“ _You_ look beautiful,” Ginny corrected. “Now, let me get ready or I’ll look like a Blast-Ended Skrewt stood next to you.”

As Ginny headed to her own dormitory, Hermione padded over to the robes hung from the canopy of her bed. She had initially looked for something dark and inconspicuous, but found herself drawn to this periwinkle blue, floor length dress. It was made from a light, silky material that flowed through her fingers as she began to get dressed.

Hermione and Ginny both grinned when they presented themselves to each other. “We look fabulous!” Ginny declared, throwing her hands in the air. “Look what happens to your posture when you’re not hauling ninety booked around with you, Hermione!”

She rolled her eyes in faux annoyance. “I’ll let that one slide, but only because you’ve done such a good job with my hair.”

Ginny smirked, offering her arm as they left the common room. "Come along then Miss Granger, everyone’s left already.”

* * *

Hermione stood alone at the top of the marble staircase, her left hand clutching the balustrade; Ginny had run off moments earlier, having spotted Neville in the crowd.

She looked around the Great Hall, and cautiously made her own way down the steps. It wasn’t long before she felt the weight of Draco’s gaze. Hermione met his eyes and her breath caught. She had to pause for a moment before continuing the descent.

Draco’s hair fell across his forehead in exactly the way she liked, and the platinum blonde stood out brilliantly in contrast to his black velvet dress robes. His ensemble was perfectly tailored, of course, and Hermione could make out the lithe angles of his body underneath.

Her heart began pounding more desperately when she noticed him swallow and drag his eyes languidly over her dress. She didn’t think she had ever seen him so flushed before and shivered knowing that it was because of her.

Tugging on his arm was Pansy Parkinson. Hermione looked down at the floor as Draco was forced to wrench his attention away from her and to his _date_. When he turned back, she had disappeared.

As the grand oak doors finally opened, Professor McGonagall called, “Champions over here, please!”

Hermione and the others were to enter the Great Hall in procession after the rest of the students had sat down. She joined Harry and Parvati, who both gaped dramatically at her new look.

Once everyone was settled, McGonagall told the Champions and their partners to get in line in pairs, and follow her. Viktor smiled as he gave Hermione a small bow and offered his arm. She flushed and they started walking up towards a large round table at the top of the Hall.

The walls of the Great Hall had been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

When the small group reached the table, Hermione sat herself between Harry and Viktor. She was initially confused by the lack of food on the glittering golden plates, but soon became distracted by her conversation with the Durmstrang boy.

“Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking,” he said. “Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these though, in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains –“

Viktor was interrupted by his Headmaster who berated his detailed description of their school. Hermione gave her partner a small shrug and changed the subject: how to correctly pronounce her name.

“Her – my – oh – nee,” she said, slowly and clearly.

“Herm – own – ninny.”

“Close enough,” she laughed, catching Harry’s eye and grinning.


	8. Chapter 8

Once all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear. He then conjured a raised platform into existence along the right-hand wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause. They were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and, in the same moment, the lanterns dimmed; it was time for the Champion’s Waltz.

Viktor was very courteous and kept his hand firmly on Hermione’s waist the entire time. It was a pleasant enough experience, but she wasn’t interested in moving any closer to him, as some of the couples around them had started to do.

As he twirled her in a neat circle, Hermione noticed Draco lean inconspicuously by the stage, asking one of the Weird Sisters something. She nodded enthusiastically and turned to pass the message along. Draco slunk quickly off looking pleased with himself.

It didn’t take very long before the music quietened and the leader singer called out, “in the style of Regency dance, please can everyone change partners. Choose the person nearest you.”

Everyone looked slightly perplexed but, nonetheless, glanced around to select another partner.

“Granger,” a voice drawled behind her. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Hermione struggled to keep her face neutral and refrain from throwing herself at Draco as she turned around. “Come here,” she whispered, only for his ears.

He stepped slowly towards her and gripped her waist in his hands, pulling her close. She melted into him and twined her arms around his neck.

“You’re perfect,” Draco breathed, his lips just inches from her forehead.

She was too focused on the way his body felt against hers to reply; they fit effortlessly together.

“Is this okay?” he murmured. “Your heart is pounding.”

“This is more than okay.”

The music eventually lulled and the two were forced to separate. Draco watched morosely as Viktor stole Hermione from him and Pansy was clutching his arm again.

Three dances later, Hermione made her way over to Harry and Ron. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” she said, fanning herself. “Viktor’s just gone to get some drinks.”

Ron gave her a withering look, “ _Viktor?_ ” he said. “Hasn’t he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?”

“What are you on about?”

“He’s from Durmstrang!” spat Ron. “He’s competing against Harry, against Hogwarts! You are _fraternising with the enemy_. I even saw you dancing with bloody _Draco Malfoy_. What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t be so stupid, the enemy?!”

“Yeah, I bet they’re both just trying to get information on Harry. It’ll be your fault when something bad happens to him.”

Hermione stared incredulously at the redhead, but he just carried on, “are you going to tell Vicky about the next tasks? I suppose you’ve been putting your heads together during those cosy little library sessions…”

Tears began filling her eyes as she stormed off across the dance floor and fled the Great Hall.

* * *

Hermione had found a small alcove, not far from the Hall, and stood with her face pressed against the cold window. She was beginning to feel a bit foolish for running out so dramatically, when a familiar voice called her name.

“I’m in here.” she responded.

Draco pushed aside the heavy curtain concealing the alcove and stepped quickly towards her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Welling up again as she replied, Hermione said, “oh yes, yes, fine.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, “if that’s what constitutes as lying in Gryffindor, I really don’t know how you manage to get away with so much.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Tell me, please?”

Hermione sniffed and brushed a tear away. “Ron said I was ‘ _fraternising with the enemy_ ’ for dancing with you and Viktor. I’d just had such an amazing time with you and, I started wondering –” she trailed off. “Well, just whether they would ever accept us as friends… or anything else.”

She tilted her head up, there were still tears shining in her eyes. Gently, Draco placed one of his warm hands against her cheek. She shivered and leant into his touch.

“… or anything else?” he said softly.

Hermione’s gaze was drawn to his mouth as he spoke. She blushed and looked back into his storm grey eyes. He was beautiful.

Bending closer, Draco could smell her familiar vanilla scent. He brushed his lips softly against hers. She gave a small gasp and pressed ever so slightly forwards. Heart pounding, his hands slid down her sides to grip her waist.

“Draco,” she whispered, breath hitching, as he deepened the kiss. 

Hermione’s lips parted and his tongue grazed the edge of her mouth. He shuddered and groaned softly, low in his throat. Her whole body tingled, relishing the feel of him pressed against her as she melted into his form.

Suddenly, there were footsteps echoing in the corridor and they both stilled. A group of excited students passed the alcove, chatting loudly, and eventually their voices faded away.

Leaning his forehead against hers, Draco wound an arm around her head and pulled out the clips that restrained her hair. Falling loose, he sighed contentedly and curled a lock around his finger. “I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.”

“Liberate my hair?” she teased.

He ran a finger gently across her lips. “You know what I mean.”

“I do, and me too.”

Draco pulled Hermione down onto his lap as he sat on the stone ledge which extended out from one wall of the alcove. She lent her head on his shoulder and her eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re tired, we should start heading upstairs.”

She hummed her assent but nestled further into his embrace.

When they finally disentangled themselves and withdrew from the alcove, Hermione realised how late it was; the castle was completely silent. A thrill went through her as she laced her fingers with his, she knew the chances of being caught were very slim.

They reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room entirely too quickly. Hermione stood on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on Draco’s lips and he murmured goodnight as she caught one last glimpse of him before stepping through the portrait hole.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione couldn’t believe that Harry had lied about figuring out the golden egg. She could shake him with frustration, he’d had _months_. Merlin only knew how they were going to figure out a method of remaining underwater by tomorrow. Hermione had just dropped her head exasperatedly on the desk when she heard a chuckle from behind her.

“Do you and that desk need to get a room, Granger?”

She muttered something unintelligible through her hair, keeping her face firmly pressed into the wood.

Draco sat down and shifted close enough to press his side against her. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I _said_ , we had one – until you arrived.”

“And here I was, thinking Krum was my only competition.”

Hermione lent her head gently on his shoulder. “There is no competition.”

He stilled, “oh?”

She turned and looked into his eyes, her heart was fluttering apprehensively, “I – I’m all yours... if you, well, if you want that."

“You’re mine?”

“I have been for a long time, I think.”

Draco thread his fingers through her curls and gently tilted her head back. He whispered into her mouth, “mine.” Coiling her arms around his neck, Hermione pulled him close, capturing his lips with hers.

After several moments, she reluctantly pulled away to catch her breath. “We don’t have much time left before Harry and Ron come back.” He sighed and rested his forehead against hers as she continued, “I wish it wasn’t like this, I wish it didn’t matter if they found us together.”

“I know. It’s just too dangerous, Granger. Especially with the Death Eaters and –” Draco cut off as they heard two male voices nearing their table.

“You’d better go,” Hermione told him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, kissing her temple, and slipped away down one of the long library corridors.

* * *

Harry and Ron had headed straight back to find Hermione in the library after they finished Divination. They brought snacks which she grabbed at hungrily. “Merlin, thank you, I’ve hardly eaten all day.”

The trio were still sat together as the sun set outside, tearing feverishly through page after page of spells, hidden from each other by huge piles of dusty old books. Hermione’s heart gave a leap every time she saw the word ‘water’ on a page, but more often than not it was merely, ‘take two pints of water, half a pound of shredded mandrake leaves, and a newt…’

“There must be something,” Hermione muttered, moving a candle closer to her. Her eyes were so tired, she could barely keep them open. “They’d never set a task that was undoable.”

“They have,” said Ron. “Harry, just go down to the lake tomorrow, right, stick your head in, yell at the merpeople to give back whatever they’ve nicked and see if they chuck it out. Best you can do, mate.”

“There’s a way of doing it!” Hermione moaned. “There just has to be!”

She seemed to be taking the library’s lack of useful information on the subject as a personal insult; it had never failed her before.

“Oh, this is no use,” she glowered, snapping _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas_ shut. “Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Fred Weasley’s voice. “Be a talking point, wouldn’t it?”

Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

“What are you two doing here?” Ron asked.

“Looking for you,” said George. “McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione.”

“We’re supposed to take you down to her office,” added Fred.

Hermione stared at Harry, who was looking fairly nauseous. “We’ll meet you back in the common room,” she told him as she got up to go with Ron. “Bring as many of these books as you can, ok?”

“Right,” said Harry uneasily.

* * *

Hermione felt her head break the surface of the lake, gulping air down as quickly as possible. She was shivering as Viktor lifted her from the water and Madam Pomfrey wrapped a thick blanket tightly around her.

The last thing she remembered was arriving in Professor McGonagall’s office the previous night with Ron. They were joined by Cho Chang and a tiny blonde girl she didn’t recognise. Dumbledore had put them all into a bewitched sleep, first assuring them that they would be quite safe.

Hermione glimpsed Draco in the stands, he looked terrible. Gripping the seat beneath him he was ashen and staring at her, wide-eyed. She gave him a small smile, but her attention was drawn quickly away as she heard Harry’s name being called. He and Ron were dragging Fleur’s sister onto the platform and the Matron moved to check on them.

Draco swore under his breath with relief. _You've got to be fucking kidding me, Granger_ , he thought. _Could I not just have one year? One year when your life isn't on the line?_

* * *

On the evening of the final task the Great Hall was filled to the brim with students, teachers, friends, and family. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet, and silence fell.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now.”

After Harry had made his way out of the castle, Hermione and the Weasleys followed the Champion’s steps towards the Quidditch pitch, which was now completely unrecognisable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. As they took their seats, Hermione could see the maze entrance which looked dark and creepy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!” Ludo Bagman cried. “On my whistle, Harry and Cedric!”

As he gave a short blast on his whistle, the cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering ominously into the darkening sky.

Whilst Hermione had been spared from watching a still lake for one hour, she was now subject to staring an overgrown hedge. As the initial excitement waned, time was passing incredibly slowly. To occupy herself she had been gradually charming Draco’s clothing scarlet and gold to see how long it took him to notice.

She wished she could have taken a picture of his face as he spotted the Gryffindor colours seeping into his black robes, but the memory would have to do. He just about managed to stifle his shriek, but the leaping and cursing caused some curious looks to be cast his way.

Draco turned immediately to find Hermione, a few rows along from him, who could barely contain her laughter. He smirked and mouthed the words, “game on”.

It had now turned into a full-blown war as Hermione battled to remove the green tinge he had applied to her skin when, suddenly, she saw Harry slam flat into the ground at the entrance to the great maze. Everyone around her jumped up and started to cheer but Hermione was frozen, something was wrong. He was lying over Cedric, who wasn’t moving. She stared at the two of them in panic.

“Harry? _Harry!_ ” Dumbledore had moved to crouch over him.

Harry let go of the Triwizard Cup, but clutched Cedric to him even more tightly. Hermione saw him seize the Headmaster’s wrist and whisper something into his ear. She tried to extricate herself from the stands to run down to him but Mrs Weasley held on to her.

“ _Diggory’s dead!_ ” Harry cried.

As Cedric’s father ran to his son’s body, Moody half pulled, half carried Harry away from the scene. Hermione couldn’t see where they had gone. She grabbed onto Ron’s arm who looked just as concerned and confused as she did.

It felt like far too long before the crowd were allowed to leave and go back to the castle. Hermione and the Weasleys went immediately to the hospital wing, but he wasn’t there. When Madam Pomfrey said Harry hadn’t arrived, the anxiety in the room increased twofold. 

Eventually, the doors were pushed open to reveal Dumbledore, Harry, and Sirius. Hermione felt detached as she distantly heard the Headmaster speak. She was gently pushed into a seat and remained there, watching Harry, until her eyes fell shut.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione waited anxiously for Draco in the library. She was pacing from one bookcase to another, her hands clenched tightly together. The students of Hogwarts were due to be leaving for the summer holidays in just a few hours’ time and she needed to speak with him before they left.

After Harry had woken up, she had been able to piece together everything that had happened. All of it was terrible, and the ultimate outcome even worse.

Draco strolled casually around the corner. “Oh, hello there, ‘devious Miss Granger’, are you here to toy with yet another boys’ affections?”

Hermione grimaced, “ _don’t_ , Malfoy.”

“Well, there haven’t been any articles for a while now, Skeeter must have got bored with you.”

“Actually, I think it’s _jarringly_ obvious that she’s missing.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain another time,” she said airily. “I need to talk to you about Dumbledore’s announcement, there were bits left out."

Draco stared at her, “why do I feel like you always drop some bombshell on me at the end of each year?”

“Because, I do?”

He grumbled and gestured for her to continue.

Hermione told him everything and Draco was quiet for a long time before he said, “okay, Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr. The Death Eater who was sent to Azkaban by his father and then swapped for his mother. He put Potter’s name in the Goblet of Fire as a very convoluted plan to bring the Dark Lord back to life.”

“Yes, that's an accurate summary.”

“So, he’s back and the Minister for Magic refuses to believe it?”

“Also true,” Hermione sighed. She moved from her seat and into his lap, trying to get as close as possible. “Draco… there’s something else.”

“Okay?”

“Your father was there, at the graveyard."

He’d known it before she answered and instinctively tightened his grip on her. “I wondered whether that might be the case.”

“What are we going to do, Draco?”

“As long as no one finds out about us, you’ll be okay. I’ve told you before that I’ll always keep you safe.”

“And what about you? What happens to _you?_ ”

He didn’t know the answer to that. The ‘meetings’ his father had been holding would likely increase. Draco would have to make sure that nobody suspected his allegiances no longer aligned with his family's. It was unlikely to be a carefree summer. “I’ll be fine. Can we not spend our last bit of time talking about it?”

Hermione knew there was no point pushing him further, so she just nodded slightly.

Kissing her temple, Draco murmured, “the article wasn’t true about you going to visit Krum, in Bulgaria, was it?”

“It’s true that he asked me but I’m not going, obviously.”

“Why obviously?” he smirked.

“Well, there’s this other guy…”

“Oh, really?”

Draco peppered kisses along her jawline as she replied, “he’s handsome… intelligent… funny…” he lowered his head to continue his ministrations down her neck. “Too bad you could never compete, Malfoy.”

He sucked gently, “rude.”

“Is there really no way we can keep in touch over summer?” Hermione whispered.

“I know it’s going to be even harder than normal, but… with everything going on, it’s especially important that we don’t risk it.”

Her brow furrowed in thought, “I could send an owl under a different name; do you think that would work?”

“It might, but only once,” he knew he was being selfish, he should say not at all, but he also couldn’t face an entire summer away from her. “We need to start moving, it’s not long before the Express arrives.”

“I’m going to miss you, so much.”

“Hermione -”

She tasted the sound of her name on his lips and kissed him desperately. As if it might be the last time. Raking her fingers through his hair, she clung to him. Draco groaned and she pressed her tongue into his mouth. His hands began to roam underneath her shirt, hesitantly stroking bare skin by the waistband of her skirt. She stilled.

“Sorry” he breathed.

“No, no, it’s not that. But you’re right, we do have to go.”

Cursing under his breath, he gave her one final kiss before they stood up and prepared to leave the safe space they had created together.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth year, here we come!

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she and Ron walked quietly towards the prefect carriage on the Hogwarts Express. She didn’t know whether Draco would be in there, but considered it a likely possibility.

She had said that she would send one owl over the summer, but that hadn’t happened. Every time she tried to put pen to parchment, her words would dry up. There was hardly anything she could tell him without lying, what if the letter was intercepted by someone at the Manor? And, if any of the Order knew she was writing to a Malfoy, let alone giving information about what was going on, would they think her a spy? The thought made her chest feel hollow.

It was the first time she truly allowed herself to acknowledge the gaping distance between her own ideologies and those of Draco’s family. Her cause and theirs were in direct opposition to each other. The two had, of course, always known this, but it had felt somewhat academic in nature. Now, with Voldemort on the rise, the reality was inescapable.

Hermione attempted to school her features into a neutral expression as Ron slid open the compartment door. It was lucky that she had because her eyes were immediately drawn to a shock of blonde hair. Draco was sat stiffly next to Pansy Parkinson who leant against his shoulder. Hermione bit her cheeks to keep from hexing the girl and quickly pulled Ron into a seat that meant she wouldn’t have to look at them.

The new Head Boy and Girl were two seventh students she had not heard of before: Mitchel Coil and Nicole Sterling. They gave their congratulations and some general advice for the upcoming year before passing around evening patrol schedules.

“Oh, fantastic _,_ ” Ron muttered scathingly. “Malfoy appears next to Weasley _far_ too regularly.”

Hermione glanced at his piece of parchment and, attempting nonchalance, said, “I don’t mind swapping, if you want?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Ronald, out of the two of us, who has a better check on their anger?”

He scowled and muttered something along the lines of, “you slapped Malfoy.”

“Do you want me to switch with you, or not?”

“Yes, please! You’re the best ‘Mione.”

* * *

“WHAT was that?” Hermione demanded as she stalked towards Draco in the library.

It was the day after the Sorting Hat had given its warning and she was starting to wonder if she had been wrong to tell Ron she had better control over her anger than he did.

“What was _what?_ ” Draco replied, sounding equally as annoyed.

“Oh, I don’t know, PARKINSON?”

“What was I supposed to do, shove her off me?”

“YES, _Draco_ , that’s exactly what you should have done.”

He glowered at her, “like you weren’t holding onto Weasley and whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.” Hermione looked at him incredulously, so he continued, “ _oh_ _‘Mione, you’re the best._ ”

She shuddered at the new nickname Ron had recently selected for her. “Don’t be ridiculous, we’re just friends. And I’ll have you know he was saying that because I offered to swap with him to be on patrol with _you_.”

“Well,” he sputtered, “you didn’t have to sit so close to him.”

“At least his head wasn’t resting on my shoulder!”

They glared silently at each other.

Hermione was surprised that it was Draco who broke first. He seemed subdued as he ran a hand through his hair and murmured, “why didn’t you write to me?”

“Oh,” she said, looking at him sadly. “I didn’t know what to say, if my letter had fallen into the wrong hands…”

He sighed, “that was probably the right decision, we shouldn’t have even thought about risking it.”

“I missed you every day.”

Draco looked at her properly for the first time and his eyes blazed. Quickly closing the distance between them, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

"I missed you too Hermione, so fucking much,” he whispered into her mouth as they came up for air.

She inhaled deeply, his scent binding tightly around her heart, and pulled him onto one of the comfier library chairs. “Tell me what it was like.”

He reflected on the past two months and struggled to find the words to explain the sense of foreboding that had taken up permanent residence beneath his skin. “There were lots of meetings; the Dark Lord is recruiting, building up his armies. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that myself, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle were summoned at various points. Just another example of my father making fabulous choices for me.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, “was… was Lord Voldemort there?”

“No, no thank Godric he wasn’t,” Draco shuddered. “Hermione, I– I don’t think it will be long though, before he decides to put in an appearance."

They both sat quietly for a long time. Thinking about what the future might hold.

* * *

It was a few days later when Hermione, Harry, and Ron had their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with the new professor. She was squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a pink velvet bow that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

After Professor Umbridge introduced herself, Hermione could already tell she was going to be a close second to worst DADA teacher. It was the first class in which she had ever confronted a teacher and she had found it surprisingly exhilarating. Draco, however, had not been impressed and kept shooting her exasperated looks.

Unfortunately, as the rest of the class joined in the discussion, Harry had eventually lost his tether. All the anger that had been bubbling up in him since the final Triwizard task exploded, and he shocked both the professor and the students with his words.

Despite the warning looks she gave him, Harry continued and eventually received a week of detentions and a conversation with Professor McGonagall. Hermione supposed it could have been worse.


	12. Chapter 12

Whilst it was a rare occurrence, Hermione Granger did not like being wrong. And yet, here she was, forced to stand corrected. Harry’s punishment from Umbridge could probably _not_ have been worse.

Suspicious, she had grabbed his forearm over dinner one evening and pulled back his sleeve. Carved into the skin, as though traced there by a scalpel, were five inflamed red words. Hermione stared and, feeling sick, released him.

“I thought you said she was just giving you lines?”

Harry hesitated but told her the truth about the hours he had been spending in Umbridge’s office.

“That old _toad_ ,” she cried. “This is completely wrong, you have to go and say something to Professor McGonagall, Harry.”

“No,” he said at once. “I’m not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she’s got to me.”

“ _Got to you?_ You can’t let her get away with this!”

Harry shook his head, “we don’t know how much power McGonagall’s actually got over her, do we?”

“Dumbledore, then, tell Dumbledore!”

“No,” he replied emphatically.

Hermione was surprised at his flat refusal. She wasn’t sure what could have happened to cause Harry not to want to seek support from the headmaster. “Why not?” she asked.

“He’s got enough on his mind,” he said. “I have to go, I’ll see you both later.”

She watched him go before turning to look worriedly at Ron. He shrugged, not knowing what to do either.

* * *

Things continued to go from bad to worse after Umbridge was made High Inquisitor and given the power to inspect other teachers. Hermione had just stormed out of the DADA classroom, rage clouding her vision. She didn’t realise, therefore, that someone was walking very closely behind her.

“Granger,” Draco muttered. “Second classroom on the left, go in there.”

He didn’t witness her impressive scowl as he glanced briefly around the corridor before slipping in behind her.

She was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. “I can’t believe this. It’s _outrageous!_ ”

“You _have_ to stop goading Umbridge, Hermione,” Draco implored. “Based on what I've heard, she is not someone you want to mess with.”

“What? I _had_ read the whole book, and I _did_ disagree with the author. I was perfectly within my rights to seek a discussion with her.”

Not for the first time, Draco wondered what it might be like to have an easy life. He tried a different tact. “Not that I am disagreeable to Potter receiving numerous detentions, I’m surprised that you would wish that upon him?”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Well, you didn’t help matters.”

“And what about you, Draco, why were you criticising Hagrid to her earlier?” she glowered. “I thought we’d gotten past the Buckbeak issue?”

“I was doing it for you! I could see your expression and knew you were moments away from provoking her again.”

Hermione sighed and said in a small voice, “she’s just such an _awful_ woman. We have to do something about her.”

“Poison?” Draco replied, hopefully.

“If only. No, I mean something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any Defence from her at all.”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“Well… you’re not going to like this, but,” she said, pretending to ignore Draco as he grit his teeth, “I was thinking maybe the time has come when we should just – just do it ourselves. I was thinking of asking Harry to start teaching a group of us.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Why not? He could show us different spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.”

Draco looked at her incredulously. He was tense as he said, “there are innumerable things that could go wrong, Granger. I imagine Umbridge would be strongly against such an endeavour, who knows how she might punish you?” Hermione shifted uncomfortably as he continued, “it’s also completely unsafe, you can’t have a load of untrained witches and wizards running around doing new spells! What if someone hits you with something and you get hurt? The whole point of us being so secretive is to keep you safe, and now, here you are, throwing yourself into ridiculous situations yet again.”

She squared her shoulders, “I’m not some flower or a delicate piece of glass, Draco.”

“No, you’re not, but you are _mine_. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“You can’t promise that, and I wouldn’t expect you to.” Hermione said softly, taking a step towards him. “We know what’s coming, Draco. I, and everyone else, need to be prepared.”

“Stop,” he snarled, thundering past her and towards the door. “I can’t talk to you about this anymore.”

* * *

Despite Draco’s vehement disapproval, Hermione broached the idea with Harry. It took some persuading, but he eventually agreed. They even got a significant number of sign-ups from the students that attended the Hog’s Head meeting.

Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge, and the Ministry, gave Hermione a feeling of immense satisfaction that refused to be dampened by Draco. She could tell that Harry’s mood was more positive because of it as well.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before ‘Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four’ had been announced:

_No student organisation, society, team, group, or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

_Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisation, society, team, group, or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled_.

“Someone must have blabbed to her!” Ron said angrily.

“They can’t have done,” Hermione told him in a low voice.

“You’re so naïve, you think just because you’re all honourable and trustworthy –”

“No, they can’t have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed,” she said grimly. “Believe me, if someone’s run off and told Umbridge, we’ll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it.”

It was immediately apparent upon entering the Great Hall that Umbridge’s sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them. With a quick hushed conversation, they all agreed the decree would not change their plans. The Defence group would be going ahead.

* * *

Dobby was officially a genius. Without him, they would never have found the Room of Requirement. Hermione was incredibly impressed by this hidden facet of Hogwarts; a room that only appeared to someone in need, always equipped for whatever this might be.

It hadn’t been easy to relay the details of their first meeting to everyone who turned up in the Hog’s Head, but they managed it. At eight o’clock, on the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls, Hermione stood with Harry and Ron, ready to follow Dobby’s instructions.

They walked past the blank stretch of wall three times, concentrating hard on what they needed. Ron had screwed up his eyes in concentration; Harry’s fists were clenched as he stared straight ahead; and Hermione was whispering under her breath.

 _We need somewhere to learn to fight…_ she thought. _Please give us a place to practice… somewhere they can’t find us_.

A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and, instead of chairs, there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Hermione looked around. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived.

“Whoa,” said Dean, staring around, impressed. “What is this place?”

Harry began to explain but, before he had finished, more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o’clock arrived, every cushion was occupied.

Hermione was pleased with how smoothly electing Harry as leader had gone, as well as the naming of the group: the DA, Dumbledore’s Army. It was perfect.

Before everyone left for the evening, she had one further thing to bring up. As Harry handed each student a fake Galleon, Hermione started talking.

“You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?” she said, holding one up for examination. It gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. “On real Galleons that’s just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. One these fake ones though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you’re carrying them in a pocket you’ll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he’ll change the numbers of _his_ coin and, because I’ve put a Protean Charm on them, they’ll all change to mimic his.”

Hermione had initially become interested in mastering the Protean Charm as a way of providing her and Draco with an easy communication channel. However, it had now also turned out to be an ideal way of keeping in touch with other DA members.

There was a silence as everyone in the room stared at her in awe, she blushed and gestured at Harry to finish up the meeting.


	13. Chapter 13

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain as November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey as the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons.

The morning of the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match dawned bright and cold. The Great Hall was filling up fast when Hermione, Harry, and Ron arrived, the students much louder and the mood more exuberant than usual.

As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise, Hermione glanced over and saw that the badges they wore had, yet again, been charmed. This time, they looked like little silver crowns. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. She tried to catch Draco’s eye but he wasn’t looking at her; she wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.

The two boys with met a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table. However, far from raising Ron’s spirits, the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale. He collapsed onto the nearest bench, looking as though he were facing his final meal.

“I must’ve been mental to do this,” he lamented. “ _Mental_.”

“Don’t be thick,” said Harry firmly. “You’re going to be fine, it’s normal to be nervous.”

Hermione attempted to give Ron an encouraging smile, but she couldn’t help glancing towards the Slytherins. They were planning something, she just couldn’t tell what.

When it became clear that he wasn’t capable of eating anymore more, Harry thought it best to head down to the changing rooms. As they rose, Hermione got up too. “Good luck, Ron,” she said, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. “And you, Harry."

It wasn’t long before Great Hall emptied, Hermione walking with Neville and Luna. The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium.

Her heart stopped when she saw Draco and an unfamiliar heat rippled through her core. She’d seen him in his Quidditch uniform before, of course, but this was the first time since their relationship had begun changing.

Madam Hooch placed a whistle in her mouth and blew. The balls were released and fourteen players shot upwards. Hermione watched Harry and Draco fly higher into the air and take a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold.

After a few moments, she heard singing rise loud and clear from the sea of emerald and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands.

“ _Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_He cannot block a single ring,_

_That’s why Slytherins all sing,_

_Weasley is our King!_

_Weasley was born in a bin,_

_He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley will make sure we win,_

_Weasley is our King!"_

Watching Ron lose any shred of confidence he might have had was heart-breaking. Hermione was sorely tempted to hex Draco from his broomstick.

She could hardly watch the rest of the match before it seemed to come to a sudden end. Harry had caught the Snitch and Draco landed close behind him, white-faced with fury. Hermione wasn’t sure what they were saying, but it didn’t look good. And when Draco started openly laughing she leapt up and ran down to the pitch.

“– but you like the Weasleys, don’t you, Potter?” said Draco, sneering. “Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you? Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys’ hovel smells okay –”

She didn’t get there fast enough to hear what else was said before Harry and George were sprinting towards Draco. Harry drew back his fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Draco’s stomach. George leapt to join him in the beating.

“Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! _NO!_ ” Hermione cried as she arrived at the chaotic scene.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” the two Gryffindor boys were knocked back as Madam Hooch drew her wand and cried, “ _What_ do you think you’re doing!”

Draco was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the Chasers.

* * *

Hermione was incandescent with rage at all three of them but didn’t know what to do about it. She was trying to work it through logically, decide who deserved her wrath most urgently. 

Draco shouldn’t have written that song but it was, ultimately, harmless. If the Gryffindors had created something similar about Marcus Flint, they’d have all found it hilarious too. Draco had, however, said some truly awful things after the match.

Equally, there was no excuse for Harry and George to attack him in the way they did. But they had been disciplined; to be completely removed from the Quidditch team was an enormous punishment for them.

There was also the question of _why_ Draco had been so vile. It didn’t happen as often now, but she knew he still reverted to taunting others when attempting to mask his own painful emotions.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her head was saying one thing and her heart another. This was the first time she had felt truly torn between two of the most important people in her life.

She eventually made the decision to go and see Draco.

He was lying at the far end of the hospital wing, propped up on a number of pillows. The stone walls flickered dimly in the light of the floating candles. Hermione walked quietly over and pulled the curtains shut around them. She stood to the side of the bed, arms folded across her chest.

“Enjoy the song?” Draco smirked, not looking at her. “Turns out that anger really fuels my creativity.”

“Why were you angry?”

“Take a wild guess, Granger.”

She took a step forward, trying to analyse his face and understand what was going on. “This isn’t just about the Defence group.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I hate them: Potter and Weasley. I was pissed off that we’d lost the match so I said some things I knew would hurt,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a dick, remember.”

It sounded stupid when he tried to say what was really going on inside his head; the words kept getting stuck in his throat. _Why am I always on the wrong side of things, why do I always get hurt, why do they get to be with you in public, why do I lose everything I care about, when will I inevitably lose you?_

“I’m not going to force you to talk to me, Draco.”

He caught her wrist gently with his fingers and pulled her towards him. “Will you lie next to me?”

Hermione hesitated, then nodded slowly. She climbed onto the bed and lay facing him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled their bodies flush against each other.

Draco found it easier to speak when he wasn’t looking into her eyes. He continued to battle feeling as though sharing emotions meant weakness. “I don’t want to go back home for Christmas,” he whispered.

She wished there was something that would make it okay for him, instead, she did the best she could. "Why don’t you stay? We both could…”

Heart suddenly pounding, he stared hopefully at her. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel super nervous about this one... my first ever attempt at smut. I would love to hear what you think about it - good and bad!

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and an avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Hermione’s prefect duties were becoming increasingly onerous as Christmas approached, which meant some time with Draco, but not nearly enough. In her spare moments she had begun planning a special evening for the two of them.

It was a few days before the 25th and Hermione had taken Draco to the seventh floor. She had asked the Room of Requirement to provide a cosy Christmas scene and it had clearly taken the instructions seriously as the decorations were impeccable. Opposite a small sofa was a quietly crackling fire which enveloped the room in warmth. A carefully adorned pine tree stood against one corner, filling the space with its refreshing scent.

Leading Draco into the room, he gazed around in awe. “What _is_ this place?”

“It’s called the Room of Requirement; it appears to any person in need of something, equipped for whatever that might be,” Hermione smiled. “Tonight, I thought we were in need of festivity.”

“It’s amazing.”

She caught his hand and laced their fingers together, pulling him towards the sofa. Two hot chocolates appeared out of thin air as they sat down.

Leaning her head against his shoulder, Hermione murmured, “I thought you deserved a surprise.”

“On that note,” he said, handing her a slender velvet box, “I have a present for you.”

Her heart fluttered as she gently lifted the lid. Lying on the soft cushion insert was a delicate bracelet with one gleaming gem. The colour transformed from scarlet to emerald as light shifted across the polished surface.

“For us, Gryffindor and Slytherin,” she smiled. “Thank you, Draco.”

He cupped his hand around her cheek and pressed a soft kiss onto her lips. Carefully picking up the bracelet he encircled it around her wrist and secured the clasp.

Hermione’s eyes flickered, suddenly hesitant, as she pulled out a small box of her own. “This is for you.”

The moment he saw what the box contained, Draco inhaled deeply and she knew that he understood the significance of her gift. She wondered whether he would say anything or wait for her to mention it.

“Hermione…” he whispered, running his index finger over the cold silver of the cufflinks.

“Are they okay?”

“I love them.” _I love you_ , he wanted to say.

When Draco had purchased Hermione’s bracelet, he was certain she wouldn’t be aware of the meaning behind it. But could it really be just a coincidence that the item he held in his palm meant the same thing?

He attempted faux innocence, “you know, Granger, some might think you were propositioning me.”

“Oh?” she replied, deciding to play along.

“In certain circles, such a personal gift might be perceived as declaring your interest in a… long-term arrangement.”

Although she already knew this, Hermione couldn’t prevent her cheeks from flushing pink. “I see,” she said. “And what might these _circles_ consider my bracelet to mean?”

“An absolutely rock-solid long-term arrangement,” Draco murmured into her neck, beginning to pepper her skin with kisses. “Everyone would know you were mine when they saw you wear it.”

She sighed as he gently sucked her pulse point before pulling her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. Clasping her face with his hands, his lips captured hers. Hermione gripped his hair and poured herself into him. He gazed down at her chest, nipples erect beneath her shirt, and she pushed herself closer to him, legs spreading further apart.

“You’re so beautiful,” he exhaled as his eyes devoured her body.

Draco fingered the hem of her shirt as he looked at her questioningly. She nodded and his hands slipped slowly up her torso, knuckles resting beneath her breasts. Hermione’s breath hitched as his fingertips teased her, grazing each taut nipple.

Their kisses became more desperate and she shifted in his lap, suddenly aware of her heat pressed against the hardness straining against his trousers. She rolled her hips again and they both groaned.

He grabbed her, turning them over. Their shirts were quickly removed and Draco pushed her skirt towards her ribs. Breathing heavily, they lay facing each other, the sofa had expanded at some point. “God, I love this room,” he panted into her neck.

He slid his palm slowly down her body, exploring and kneading as he went, until he met the apex of her thighs. She stilled and looked into his eyes; they were dark, his pupils black and blown wide. Grinding against his palm to indicate what she wanted, he claimed her mouth again and moved his hand lower.

No one had ever touched her there before and she gasped. Her back arched and nipples tightened. He stroked his fingers over her slick folds, rubbing her clit in light, gentle circles. She whimpered and he swallowed the sound, gently sliding one finger inside her heat, allowing time for her to adjust.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, and she nodded.

“How – how did you…”

Draco’s cheeks flared red. “I, well, I’ve been reading some books.”

She gave a breathy laugh before becoming overwhelmed with sensation. Hermione felt like her whole body was on fire, arousal drummed through her as he pumped slowly in and out, his thumb continuing its ministrations on her clit. Her head fell back and he couldn’t tear his eyes away, wanting to commit every moment to memory.

“Oh God,” she groaned, rocking against him.

Carefully adding a second finger, he felt her stretch around him and wondered whether he might explode from that feeling alone. He slowly increased the pace until her hips bucked and she cried out his name. He desperately wanted to feel her come on his fingers.

Hermione’s eyes closed as the heat building inside her coiled tighter. Her toes curled and her thighs began to tremble. He felt her clamp down tightly on his fingers and thought he might die of happiness.

Her eyelids fluttered as she came down from her high and they stared at each other in wonder.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed.

She nipped him gently as her gaze meandered down his trousers which were holding a now painfully swollen erection. To his surprise she reached in to pull him free, and he shuddered as his hard length was released.

Hand slipping around his shaft, she caressed the silken skin, her thumb brushing over the head while he groaned. She pumped him in her fist, watching a bead of precum leak from the tip.

“Hermione,” he gasped, staring down at her small hand.

“Is this okay?” she asked, nervously repeating his own question.

He could barely form a coherent thought but managed to reply, “more than.”

Lifting his hips to meet her hand he twitched, and she moaned, her hand moving faster. His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing heavily as he began palming her breasts.

“Fuck, I’m going, I can’t…” he said, his jaw clenching.

She tightened her grip slightly as his hips rocked more erratically. “Please,” she breathed into his ear.

That word was his undoing and he thrust hard, suddenly pulsing in her hand as he let himself shatter, too.

They lay in silence for what felt like a long time. Simply taking each other in, exploring the body in front of them.

Hermione eventually spoke first, “I am yours,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“I do, I do,” he kissed the words into her skin. “I do.”

“You might lose at Quidditch, Draco, but you will never lose me.”

He remembered their last conversation, his unspoken words; how did she know, how could someone know him so deeply?

“Hermione,” he breathed. “I adore you.”


	15. Chapter 15

The happiness she had felt the previous night was short-lived.

Harry had experienced another vision, this time of Mr Weasley being attacked. They were lucky that Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had been so open-minded about the situation, meaning Ron’s father could be swiftly found and taken to St Mungo’s Hospital.

Unfortunately, this greatly disrupted Hermione and Draco’s plans to spend the holidays together as she was now residing at Grimmauld Place. Draco had been surprisingly gracious about the situation, and she knew she would need to make it up to him.

After spending the majority of Christmas Eve decorating the dark hallways and dingy rooms of Sirius’ former home, she had decided it was time to set up an intervention for Harry and his current brooding.

Hermione hammered hard on his door. “I know you’re in there,” she said. “Will you please come out? We want to talk to you.”

After a few minutes she heard footsteps and the door creaked open a fraction. “We?”

Without giving Harry any warning, she, Ron, and Ginny marched into the bedroom.

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asked.

“Fine,” he replied stiffly.

It took a while, but she and the two Weasleys eventually got Harry to talk about why he’d been avoiding any and all human contact since getting back from St Mungo’s. He was worried that Voldemort had possessed him and might do it again.

Hermione sighed with frustration, if he had just told them sooner, he wouldn’t have had to go through this alone. Why did all the males in her life have such difficulties sharing their thoughts and feelings?

* * *

Christmas came and went, and a new term began at Hogwarts. Harry, much to his chagrin, had started Occlumency lessons and Hermione was trying to manage his increasingly despondent moods. The Daily Prophet that arrived one bitterly cold morning in January did nothing to improve things.

She spread the newspaper on the breakfast table in front of her, Harry, and Ron. She couldn’t help but gasp at what faced them. Ten black-and-white photographs filled the front page, nine showing wizards’ faces and the tenth, a witch’s. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and a crime.

The headline read: _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN. MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS ‘RALLYING POINT’ FOR OLD DEATH EATERS._

Hermione looked across the Great Hall and caught Draco’s eye. She could see her own panic reflected in his expression. He glanced towards the doors, his usual indication for an immediate meeting, but she shook her head. There was an important owl she had to send first.

* * *

“Fuck,” was all he said, striding towards her when they were finally able to meet.

Hermione nodded, “the Azkaban guards have joined Voldemort.”

Draco sat down heavily next to her and she curled into him. “Yes, they have.”

“I can’t believe Fudge is _still_ trying to cover it all up, it’s ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing small circles into her back. “I know.”

“Your Aunt is free too,” Hermione said, gently. “Where do you think she’ll go?”

He shrugged, “I imagine it won’t take long before she and her husband visit the Manor.”

“Do you know much about her?”

“No, not really, I was barely two years old when she was sent to Azkaban,” Draco recalled. “From what I’ve heard, it’s a very bad thing that she’s free. Bella has been a fervent supporter of the Dark Lord from a young age.”

They were silent for a while, there was little to be said. Both struggled to tolerate uncertainty, and the current situation was the definition of a waiting game.

Draco decided to change the subject.

“So,” he smirked, “are you available on Valentine’s Day, Granger?”

“I have plans in the afternoon, but I’m around in the morning,” she replied. “Why?”

His jaw clenched, “plans?”

“Yes, I’m meeting Harry at the Three Broomsticks.”

“You are meeting _Potter_ on _Valentine’s Day_?”

Hermione suddenly realised why this might be problematic and gave him a quick kiss. “Sorry, Draco, I’m just –” she paused, thinking. “Do you remember when Rita Skeeter went, erm, missing?”

Choosing to ignore this somewhat bizarre turn of events, he nodded.

“So, I found out that she was an unregistered Animagus and _might_ have trapped her in a… jar.”

He choked, “you did _what?!_ ”

“I made sure she was relatively comfortable!” Hermione said defensively. “There’s plenty of greenery in there, Draco.”

“I’m really not sure if I’m turned on or terrified right now,” he gaped, before recovering himself. “What does this have to do with you spending Valentine’s Day with Potter?”

“I’m meeting Harry _and_ Rita on the 14th so that she can interview him, get him to tell the true account of what’s been happening. People need to start believing that Voldemort is back.”

“You’ll never get the Prophet to print it,” Draco countered. “Everyone thinks Potter’s delusional.”

“You mean the Prophet won’t print it because Fudge won’t let them,” said Hermione irritably.

“So, what then?”

“The Quibbler,” she smiled. “Luna says her father’s quite happy to take Harry’s interview. That’s who’ll be publishing it.”

“No one will take it seriously if it’s published there!”

“Some people won’t,” said Hermione in a level voice. “But the Daily Prophet’s version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn’t a better explanation of what happened, and if there’s an alternative story available, even if it’s published in an… _unusual_ magazine, I think they might still be rather keen to read it.”

Draco wasn’t sure, but it was the best option they had at the moment. The wizarding world needed to prepare, and the propaganda currently in circulation was helping no one.

“So, what _do_ you want to do on Valentine’s Day?” Hermione asked, nudging his side.

He smiled, pressing his lips to her temple. “It’s a surprise.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to ForeverWithGirlsGeneration \- your comments give me life!

She was blindfolded as Draco led her into the Room of Requirement on Valentine’s Day morning. “Where are we going?” Hermione grumbled.

“Stop your whining,” he laughed.

The room no longer looked like a room. Instead, it was transformed into a roof terrace covered in greenery; a small table for two sat below a rose-covered trellis. Lacing their fingers together, Draco pulled Hermione towards the edge of the balcony, and they gazed out over the Eiffel Tower in front of them.

“Draco,” she gasped. “This is amazing, how did you manage this?”

He looked incredibly pleased with himself. “Like you said, ask the room for what you require!”

Smiling, she pushed herself closer to him and he placed a protective arm around her waist.

A small brunch of fruit, pastries, and fresh juice had been prepared for them as they sat down opposite each other. Hermione silently thanked Merlin for the wizarding world.

They talked about everything and nothing and it was the first time she had noticed herself thinking about the future, time beyond the confines of Hogwarts, and what it could hold for them.

Eventually, Draco began shifting awkwardly in his seat. “So, I’ve got good news and bad news,” he told her. “Which would you like to hear first?”

“Bad.”

Sighing, he nodded, “Umbridge has recruited a number of Slytherins, including me, to join the _Inquisitorial Squad_.”

“The – the, what?”

“It’s a group of us, hand-picked by Umbridge, to support her within the school.”

“Merlin, Draco,” she gasped. “What has she got you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said, and then amended. “Nothing, _yet_. We’re just meant to keep an eye on everyone. To spy, basically. And we have too many powers, Granger, we can dock house points, administer punishments.”

“This is not good. _Why_ did you join?”

Draco’s grey eyes widened in surprise, “you know I didn’t have any choice; imagine how it would have looked if I declined the invitation?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you didn’t have to. Godric, I hate that woman.”

She glanced sadly at the new badge on his chest, a small silver ‘I’. He looked at it with her, tightening his hold on her hand. “I’ve charmed it again, to me it still says S.P.E.W.”

A glimmer of a smile crossed her face as she changed the subject. “So, what about the good news?”

Draco’s face flushed, a sight she would never stop enjoying. “Hmm?” he said nonchalantly, thrusting a croissant into his mouth. 

She gave him a kick under the table. “You said you had good news and bad news.”

“Oh yes, that,” he sat quietly for a moment, looking into her eyes. “I – I, well, I wanted to say that... I love you.”

Her own face burned as she stood slowly, and moved around the table to sit on his lap. “I love you too, Draco.”

* * *

It had been challenging to tear herself away from him. She could see them spending the rest of their lives in this quiet corner of Paris. Eventually, however, she found herself in the Three Broomsticks with Harry and Rita Skeeter.

It hadn’t been particularly difficult to persuade the journalist to write the article, not that she had much choice. When Hermione, Harry, and Ron entered the Great Hall for breakfast a few days later, it was at exactly the same moment as the post owls.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, a screech owl dropped a long, cylindrical package in front of them. Harry ripped off the brown paper and out came a tightly furled copy of the March edition of The Quibbler. He unrolled it to see his own face grinning sheepishly at him from the front cover. In large red letters across this picture were the words:

_HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN._

Harry received a huge amount of post that day; many were scathing, but most offered their support. Hermione was ecstatic to see the look on Professor Umbridge’s face and subsequent educational degree when she caught sight of the headline.

Unfortunately, she had also found out about the DA meetings. It was only through Dobby that everyone, albeit Harry, had been able to get away safely. This had led to the devastating event that was Dumbledore being replaced by the High Inquisitor.

Since then, Harry’s visions had been occurring more frequently despite the Occlumency lessons. Hermione regularly encouraged him to empty his mind, but she wasn’t sure whether he was practicing at all.

She and Ron had been walking down the marble staircase together one afternoon when he came running frantically towards them.

“Harry!” said Hermione at once, looking frightened. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Come with me,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind them the moment they were inside. “Voldemort’s got Sirius.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I saw it, just now,” Harry told them. “When I fell asleep in my exam.”

“But – but, where? How?” Hermione stuttered, her face ashen.

“I don’t know, but I know exactly where. There’s a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they’re at the end of row ninety-seven… Voldemort is trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there, he’s torturing him, says he’ll end by killing him.”

Harry’s voice was shaking as he sat down, trying to master himself. He attempted to convince her and Ron that they needed to travel to the Ministry immediately, but neither were easily convinced. Hermione tried to reason with him that Voldemort could be setting a trap.

They eventually agreed to a compromise: Ginny and Luna would create a distraction whilst Ron distracted Umbridge so that Harry could try to speak with Sirius via fire-call.

* * *

Harry's face was in the grate for barely ten minutes before Hermione heard the door behind them slam open. It was Umbridge, and she was racing towards him, suddenly grabbing a handful of his hair and dragging him backwards.

She bent his neck back as far as it would go, as though she were going to slit his throat. “You think,” she whispered, “that after two Nifflers, I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway, you foolish boy. Take their wands,” she barked at the two Inquisitorial Squad members present.

Hermione felt herself being pulled into a familiar someone’s arms.

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Ron, Ginny, Luna and, to her astonishment, Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked in imminent danger of suffocation. All four of them had been gagged.

“So, Potter,” Umbridge said. “You stationed lookouts around my office, and you sent this buffoon," she nodded to Ron, “to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes,” she took a breath before continuing, “clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid?”

The Slytherins laughed and Hermione backed further into Draco. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into his chest. His breathing was ragged, and she could feel his panic.

“It none of your business who I talk to,” she heard Harry snarl.

“Very well,” Umbridge replied in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. “Very well, Mr Potter… I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco, fetch Professor Snape.”

Draco’s body tightened behind Hermione before he reluctantly stepped away and ran to the dungeons.

There was silence in the office except for the fidgetings and scufflings resulting from the Slytherins’ efforts to keep Ron and the others under control. It didn’t take long before Draco’s heat returned to her back and Snape marched in.

“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?” he said softly, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

“Ah, Professor Snape,” Umbridge simpered. “Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quickly as you can, please.”

Hermione was only able to prevent her gasp because Draco was rubbing slow circles into her sides. Luckily, and for whatever reason, Snape denied having any of the potion available.

Just as he was turning to leave the office, Harry called: “He’s got Padfoot! He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione could feel Draco staring at her incredulously as lies spouted easily from her mouth, his wand hand shaking imperceptibly. Thoughts were racing through her mind as she wove them together, Umbridge was currently believing everything she said.

She had persuaded the woman to think Harry was trying to contact Dumbledore due to a weapon hidden in the Forbidden Forest. Umbridge quickly agreed to follow them there.

“Professor,” Draco said almost pleadingly. “Professor Umbridge, I think I should come with you to –”

“I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?” she asked sharply. “In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and makes sure none of these –” she gestured around at Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna, “ – escape.”

“Alright,” he replied, reluctantly.

“And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way,” said Umbridge, pointing at Hermione and Harry with her wand. “Lead on.”

* * *

Hermione breathed heavily, wondering how she had managed to convince Umbridge to enter the Forbidden Forest; let alone how she had ended up being carried violently away by Centaurs.

“Harry, how are we going to get all the way to London to find Sirius?” she asked.

“Yeah, we were just wondering that,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

Hermione and Harry moved together instinctively and peered through the trees. Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville, and Luna. All of them looking a little the worse for wear – there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny’s cheeks; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville’s right eye; Ron’s lip was bleeding – but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

“How did you get away?” asked Harry in amazement.

“It was weird,” Ginny told them. “Malfoy randomly fell over and it gave us the opportunity to blast some Stunners and Disarming Charms; Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed.”

After some discussion, Hermione found herself floating in the air, flying towards London.

* * *

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” said a woman’s voice from the telephone box as the doors burst open.

The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of a witch and wizard, the point of a centaur’s arrow, the tip of a goblin’s hat, and a house-elf’s ears gushed into the surrounding pool.

“Come on,” said Harry quietly and the six of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where a watchwizard usually stood.

Having made it to the Department of Mysteries, the group stood in a large, circular room. Everything was black, including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue. Their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

They began going through doors at random until eventually the group reached a place high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dimly in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set a intervals along the shelves.

“You said it was row ninety-seven,” whispered Hermione.

“Yeah,” breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-tree.

“We need to go right, I think,” she replied, squinting to the next row. “Yes, that’s fifty-four.”

The group continued until they reached the row projected in Harry’s visions.

“It’s – it’s got your name on it,” said Ron.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter_

Staring at the spidery writing, a chilling voice suddenly boomed behind them. “Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.”

It was Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

Hermione was lying in the hospital wing. She had just experienced one of the worst nights of her life and couldn’t even begin to describe the trauma they had been through. They were all injured, the prophecy gone, and Harry’s last remaining family was dead because of Voldemort's planted vision. The pain she felt, both physically and emotionally, was devastating.

She was floating in and out of consciousness, the pain beneath her sternum unbearable. Throughout the night Madam Pomfrey had been dosing her with various potions; none of which fully eradicated the discomfort of the purple flamed hex directed towards her.

It wasn’t clear how long she had been hovering between the realms of reality, when she heard uneven breathing coming from the side of her bed. She gingerly opened her heavy eyelids, pain lancing through her forehead as candlelight streamed in.

Draco was sat before her, head in his hands, fingers grating through platinum blonde hair.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

His face shot up towards her, and he moved involuntarily forwards, she could hear his knees crunch as they hit the floor. “Granger, I have not stopped since the second I created a diversion for the Weaslette and her cronies to escape. I watched you _fly_ out of the fucking Forbidden Forest and knew the second you had arrived back.”

She moved her hand to grasp his, wincing slightly at the pain in her ribs.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” he growled.

Her breathing was ragged as she replied, “Dolohov.”

Draco stood up, pacing the length of her curtained cubicle. “Fuck, fuck,” he kept repeating. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Please, Draco, stop,” Hermione implored, he was beginning to make her feel very dizzy.

He came to a pause and lowered himself to lay gently beside her on the hospital cot. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I’ve just never been so scared in my life.” It cost him something to admit this, his father’s voice still echoing in his head. “What happened?” he continued, gently. “Please, tell me?”

She shook her head, “I can’t – I can’t just yet. But you have to know, Lucius was there; he was leading the group.”

Closing his eyes, Draco leaned his forehead against hers. “It could have been him, Godric, what if he had been the one to hurt you like this.”

“He didn’t though, it wasn’t him... it wasn't him."

Draco draped an arm tenderly over her, ensuring he avoided the painful area. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” He whispered the words over and over into her skin. “I love you.”

* * *

It was hours later when Snape silently appeared, looking at the two students tangled together. He snarled at their stupidity. “This is the _second_ time I have found you in such a compromising situation.”

They both groaned quietly, slowly awakening. Hermione’s eyes widened as she noticed who had woken them. She nudged Draco’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” he murmured.

“Mr Malfoy,” Snape said ominously. “I bid you return to the dungeons immediately. We need to discuss your father’s current… situation.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins in August 1996, but we will then quickly get into sixth year!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, it means so much to me :)

There were only a few days left until Hermione was due to begin her sixth year at Hogwarts. She was sat with Harry and Ron at the Burrow and, instead of paying attention to their conversation, was ruminating on the last few months, trying to piece everything together.

Following the Battle of the Department of Mysteries she had recovered relatively quickly. Professor Dumbledore was reinstated as Headmaster, and the wizarding community were now finally aware that Lord Voldemort had returned to full strength.

She and Draco had been unable to spend much time together after Snape found them asleep in the hospital wing. Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and, despite Draco’s protestation that he was unaffected by the news, Hermione knew better. She had written to him a number of times over the summer, always under a different pseudonym, but received no reply.

During their trip to Diagon Alley a few days prior, Hermione had seen Draco for the first time. He was in the notorious Borgin and Burkes, _threatening_ the shop owner about one item that needed fixing and another that was to be kept for a later date. She had never heard Draco sound so vicious and it left her feeling unsettled.

Harry’s voice suddenly bought her back into the present. “He’s a Death Eater, he’s replaced his father as a Death Eater.”

There was a silence, then Ron erupted in laughter, “ _Malfoy_? He’s sixteen, Harry. You think You-Know-Who would let _Malfoy_ join?”

“It seems very unlikely, Harry” said Hermione, silently praying she was right. “What makes you think –?”

“In Madam Malkin’s. She didn’t touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from her when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He’s been branded with the Dark Mark.”

“Well…” said Ron, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.

“I think he just wanted to get out of there, Harry,” Hermione added.

“He showed Borgin something we couldn’t see,” Harry pressed on stubbornly. “Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it – he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with!”

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron. “I’m not sure, Harry…”

“Yeah, I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join…”

He glowered at them and strode from the room. From that moment on, Hermione was counting down the days until she could see Draco again and disconfirm Harry’s suspicions.

* * *

She had hoped to catch him on the Hogwarts Express, but Draco wasn’t in the prefect carriage. Now, in the Great Hall, Hermione was worrying about where Harry had got to. She silently wondered whether it was possible to add a tracking device to the boys without their knowledge.

She and Ron were suddenly pushed apart, and Harry sat between them.

“Where’ve you – blimey, what’ve you done to your face?” said Ron, staring at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” asked Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection,

“You’re covered in blood!” Hermione gasped. “Come here.”

She raised her wand, said, “ _Tergeo!_ ” Siphoning off the dried blood.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “How’s my nose looking?”

“Normal… but why shouldn’t it? What happened, we’ve been terrified!”

“Malfoy,” Harry said quietly. “But don’t ask more now, I’ll tell you later.”

She nodded, gazing over at the Slytherin table, yet again trying to get Draco to see her. He was looking everywhere and anywhere _but_ in her direction and it was clear this was intentional; they always made sure to catch each other’s eye at mealtimes, particularly the first one after months apart.

* * *

Hermione soon found that Draco’s timetable was almost identical to her own, aside from Herbology, which meant they had nearly every class together. Despite this, he was still fervently ignoring her and she had yet to find a moment alone with him.

She, Harry, and Ron were heading towards the Potions classroom and saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Four Slytherins had made it through, including Draco; four Ravenclaws were there; and one Hufflepuff.

The dungeon door opened and Professor Slughorn’s belly preceded him into the corridor. As the students filed into the room, his great walrus moustache curved above his beaming mouth and he greeted Harry and a Slytherin named Blaise Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

“Now then,” said Slughorn once the class were settled, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. Can any of you tell me what this one is?”

He indicated the cauldron nearest the supply cupboards. Hermione raised herself slightly in her seat and saw a potion with a mother-of-pearl sheen, steam rising from it in slow spirals.

She raised her hand and said, “it’s Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world.” Slughorn nodded enthusiastically as she continued, “it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell apples, cologne, broom polish –”

Hermione turned pink, willing herself not to look at Draco.

“May I ask your name, my dear?” said Slughorn.

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir,” she replied politely. “I’m Muggle-born, you see.”

She saw Theodore Nott lean close to Draco and whisper something. Both of them sniggered.

The rest of the class passed by and Hermione became increasingly flustered, it didn’t help that Harry was cheating; his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ had been extensively annotated by a previous student.

Despite that fact that she didn’t win the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis, Hermione found that she didn’t mind because Draco was packing up slowly, telling Nott and Zabini to go ahead without him. She slowed down too and, once everyone had left, waited for him outside the classroom.

The second he was in the corridor, Hermione jumped in front of him. “Care to tell me why you’ve been acting as if I don’t _exist_ , Malfoy?”

He froze and stared at her, eyes ablaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’ve only been a student here for, what, six years?” she said, petulantly.

Draco rolled his eyes and made to walk around her. “I’m busy, Granger.”

Hermione was bewildered, she could feel her eyes well up with hot tears and swiped at them furiously. Draco made to reach for her but wrenched his hand back at the last moment.

“What is _happening_ , Draco?” she implored. “Something is clearly going on, please talk to me.”

Her heart was pounding as she watched emotions she couldn’t decipher flash across his features.

He cursed and ran a hand tiredly through his hair. “Fine, the Room of Requirement, this evening?”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll –” Hermione stopped talking as she realised Draco had already walked away from her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to BootsBootsBoots for all your helpful and encouraging thoughts re. Draco's POV. You have given me the inspiration (and confidence) to gently ease myself in. If it works I would love to do more as we continue through the story. I hope I can do him justice.

Hermione asked the Room of Requirement to provide a neutral space for their conversation, and it had delivered. She was sat in the corner of a small room that held only a comfortable sofa atop a plush rug. As Draco walked in, Hermione noticed that he wasn’t looking well: his skin was paler than usual and there were deep shadows beneath his eyes.

He didn’t say anything as he lowered himself next to her. Hermione saw that he left some space between them and didn’t reach for her like he usually would.

“So, you requested this meeting,” he said brusquely. “What do you want?”

She stared at him, slightly dazed, he wouldn’t even look at her. “Draco, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a lot going on at the moment, Granger.”

“Something that requires you to ignore me and be downright rude, I see?”

Draco ran his fingers almost feverishly through his hair and Hermione knew then that there was something terribly wrong. She prayed, to whomever was listening, that she could fix it.

Moving towards the floor in front of him, she knelt between his legs and gently cupped his jaw in her hands, encouraging him to look at her. “You’re scaring me,” she whispered. “Please talk to me.”

His brow furrowed and he turned away, considering her words. Eventually, Draco shifted off the sofa and sunk to the rug beside her. Curling around her body he held on tightly, as though trying to stay afloat.

“I’m so fucking selfish,” he mumbled.

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Every moment we spend together puts you in danger. I’ve been trying to distance myself and I can’t even do that properly. I can’t stay away from you.”

“Draco,” she said, pushing herself closer to him, “danger is something I can cope with, not being with you isn’t. I’m yours but you are also mine and I will do _anything_ for you.”

He choked; he wasn’t crying, but it was the closest he had come for many years. He decided to tell her everything, maybe that would push her away. _And maybe it won't_ , the selfish part of him added.

“When I got home, Aunt Bellatrix was there. She’s even worse than the stories I’ve heard. It was almost amusing for a few weeks, just watching her prance around and rave about the Dark Lord. But, everything changed after she heard from him personally. He – he wanted _me_.”

His mind started drifting back over the past few months.

_The initiation ceremony had taken place barely five weeks after his sixteenth birthday. Draco knew that his mother was devastated, but there was nothing that could be done and so he made no attempt to disobey; the Dark Lord had made it abundantly clear what would happen if he did._

_He had been summoned to the ornate drawing room of Malfoy Manor late one evening. Death Eaters filed in behind him, standing silently against the walls. There was a fire blazing in the marble hearth despite the lingering summer heat._

_Stood before him was Lord Voldemort, his chalk white skin a glistening frame around slit nostrils and red eyes. Draco’s mother and aunt sat to the right of the room: Narcissa’s hands were clenched tightly together whilst Bellatrix had a feral smirk plastered across her face._

_“Your arm, Draco,” the Dark Lord commanded._

_Cold beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as he rolled up his left sleeve and presented his arm. Voldemort’s mouth contorted into a vulgar imitation of a smile. Every occupant in the room knew the evening was a farce, a method of shaming the Malfoy family, and a punishment for Lucius’ transgressions._

_Before Draco had a moment to think, the Dark Lord’s wand was pressed firmly against his bare skin. Pain like he had never experienced lanced through his arm. Black flames tore through tissue and muscle before delving deeper and scraping along bone, like fingers down a chalkboard. He screamed and Lord Voldemort laughed._

_It could have been minutes or hours later when the wand was finally removed and Draco fell to his knees; pressing his forehead to the cold floor, he retched._

_When he thought the worst was over, he looked up. “Thank you, my Lord.”_

_“You are more than welcome, son of Lucius,” Voldemort cried, lifting his arms in a magnanimous gesture. “And I have a second gift for you, another way for you to prove your devotion. Please, do stand.”_

_On trembling legs, Draco stood, and he was told of the impossible task he must fulfil: to kill Albus Dumbledore._

_“What say you, Draco?” said Voldemort, quietly. “Are you not grateful for the chance to redeem the Malfoy name?”_

_He swallowed, “yes, my Lord, I am honoured to have been given this opportunity.”_

_Bellatrix cackled from across the room, her black eyes glittering with mirth. “He will not let you down, my Lord.”_

_The days that followed passed in a blur of pain and potions. His mother was beside him as often as she could be, holding cold flannels over his fevered brow and gently massaging his arm. He was in and out of consciousness, wading through dark nightmares interspersed with dreams of Hermione._

_He awoke one morning to Narcissa staring at him, panic filled her eyes. “Draco, your Occlumency shields are down. You cannot let this happen again.”_

_Looking at her in confusion she said gently, “I have seen her.”_

_“What do I do?” he asked desperately as his heart plummeted, reaching for his mother like a child._

_“You have to stay away from her Draco. You have to build your walls back up and put her in a box, far, far away. For your sake, and for hers.”_

_And so, he did. He spent the remainder of the holidays focused on two terrible tasks: concealing Hermione from any Legilimens who might wish her harm, and planning the death of his Headmaster._

Draco stopped and finally looked at Hermione, silent tears were rolling down her face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She stared at him, “you’re… sorry?”

“Yes, I –”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” she said again, shrilly. “ _You_ have done nothing wrong. _You_ are a sixteen-year-old boy who has been branded against his will and forced to do something atrocious.” Hermione took a breath, trying to calm down. “Promise me you won’t keep things from me again, we’re stronger together.”

“How can I promise that? How can I promise something that could endanger you?”

“I’m in danger already, Draco! I’m a Muggle-born. Voldemort won’t spare me, whether I’m with you or not. But _you_ might stand a chance, if you’re not figuring this out alone.”

He desperately wanted to tell her no; wanted to push her away, tell her he never loved her, make her hate him. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, it might even make her more reckless. He had to be more careful with what he told her in the future. She was his and had to be protected, at any cost.

“I promise,” he lied.


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione had a tendency to detach herself from difficult moments and go into ‘planning mode’; which was how she ended up leant against Draco, scribbling in a notebook, unaware that he would rather think about almost _anything_ else.

“If you are quite done brainstorming ideas for ‘how to kill but not actually kill Dumbledore’", he said eventually, “could we please stop for a while.”

She looked at him consideringly, there were still numerous things they hadn’t discussed yet but, she could appreciate his request.

A familiar heat crept into her cheeks as her mind drifted to ways she might be able to distract him. This did not go unnoticed.

It wasn’t fantastic timing, she thought, as Draco lowered them to the ground, his body covering hers, but it _had_ been a long summer…

“Granger,” he growled, his breath hot against her ear, “stop thinking.”

Hermione pushed her lips roughly against his, biting his bottom lip, suddenly feeling a desperate need to be as close to him as possible. His hand slipped up her skirt and cupped her core, he swallowed her moan. Pushing aside the damp material he slid one finger and then another inside her.

She grappled with his shirt, tearing at the buttons as he pumped in and out of her, the pad of his thumb rubbing her clit. He took one hand off her breast to pull his arm free from the sleeve, and instantly realised his mistake. Hermione had stilled, her eyes wide.

There, branded into his skin, was the Dark Mark. 

Obviously, she had known it was there. He had told her just a few hours ago, but seeing it felt different, real. Now she couldn’t pretend that what Draco had gone through was simply an awful dream.

He burned with shame and turned away from her, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Recovering quickly, Hermione sat up facing him and pulled the rest of his shirt off. She took his left arm in her hands and covered the mark with kisses.

“He doesn’t get to make you feel like you’ve done something wrong,” she told him. “What this mark really represents is the love you have for your family and the sacrifices you’re willing to make to keep them safe.”

Draco pulled her against him, his lips seizing hers. They kissed slowly and deeply, the frantic energy from earlier was gone. Hermione wanted every movement she made to convey how much she loved him.

Moving to lie on the sofa – which had, again, kindly expanded – they unhurriedly removed their remaining articles of clothing. She ran her fingers down his back, wondering at how toned he felt.

He pinned her down, attempting to kiss every part of her, sucking at her pulse points. A low groan tore from his throat as his hips positioned themselves perfectly between her thighs and heat pooled in her abdomen. He pressed his hard length against her core, and she whined involuntarily.

“Draco, please,” Hermione swallowed. “I want you.”

“Are – are you sure?” he rasped.

“Yes, yes.”

He slid his hand slowly down her torso, to the apex of her thighs. Whimpering, she pushed her hips towards him as he stroked her slowly, testing her wetness, finger trailing along her slit.

“Please,” she begged.

“Tell me, if it hurts?”

She nodded.

He ran his eyes over her, committing each curve to memory. Gently nudging her legs further apart, his body trembled as he aligned himself to her. Draco groaned as he pushed inside. He waited for her to adjust to the feeling of him before continuing.

Hermione’s face flicked with discomfort and he froze. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Claiming his mouth again, she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and he thrust further; shuddering as he finally bottomed out, his pelvis flush against hers. He moved slowly, making her groan in anticipation, pulling back an inch and then pushing into her again.

“Hermione,” he gasped, lengthening to long, slow strokes.

She whimpered, her legs beginning to tremble. “Faster, please.”

His breathing hitched as he increased his pace, trailing kisses and nips along her skin, marking her. His gaze caught on her breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts and he dipped his head to capture her hard nipple in his mouth.

The tension in her core wound steadily tighter, her back arched, and she kissed him furiously. Draco’s hand slipped between them to circle her clit. It pushed her over the edge, and she came apart in his arms, her walls clenching tightly around him.

He panted into her neck, his hands gripping her hips as he pumped hard and fast. His cock pulsed in time with her lingering aftershocks and he poured himself into her. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily, and Hermione pulled him close.

“I love you.”

They lay pressed together for a long time, basking in the afterglow of the experience they had shared. Cocooned in this way, it was easy to forget the world around them.

* * *

Halfway through October came Hermione, Harry, and Ron’s first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. It had, however, been a fairly dismal afternoon as they battled their way through sleet and bitterly cold winds to arrive at boarded up shops and an overcrowded Three Broomsticks.

On their way back to the castle, it had only gotten worse. Katie Bell and her friend Leanne were arguing about something Katie was holding in her hands. They fought over the package which lead to the Gryffindor Chaser rising into the air, her arms outstretched, as though she were about to fly. Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind and she let out a terrible scream.

Harry had gone for help and ran back with Hagrid, who lifted Katie into his arms and rushed towards the school.

Hermione crouched down, an ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the brown paper packaging.

“I’ve seen that before,” said Harry, staring at the thing. “It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, Malfoy knows about it. _This_ is what he was buying that day when we followed him. He remembered it and went back for it!”

A cold shiver passed through Hermione as she, yet again, prayed Harry was wrong.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more of Draco's POV 💔

_Draco sat by the lake with his head in his hands, it was freezing cold and he was chilled to the bone._ _Katie Bell had been transferred to St Mungo’s and, although she was still alive, he had come incredibly close to killing her. That hadn’t been part of the plan._

_Theo had sought him out only a few days into term, realising that something was wrong. Lucius had repeatedly told Draco how weak he was, and he supposed it must be true because he had told Theo everything, and hated himself for it._

_They had come up with the cursed necklace plan together, fully aware of how flawed it was, but Draco knew he needed to prove to the Dark Lord that he had begun attempting his task._

_Theo had practiced the Imperius Curse on Draco, over and over again, until he could cast it perfectly. It was easy enough then for Theo to go into Hogsmeade as usual and cast the Unforgivable upon Madam Rosmerta, whilst Draco stayed in the castle for detention._ _They weren’t sure whether the landlady would be able to Imperius someone else, but it had worked and Katie Bell left the Three Broomsticks with the necklace._

_Draco received an owl a few days later, the Dark Lord had expected better. His mother was punished for his indiscretion._

_When he had visited Borgin and Burkes before the start of term, Draco hoped that fixing the twin Vanishing Cabinets would be a back-up plan but it was becoming clearer that he would have to start work on the one in the Room of Hidden Things immediately._

_It had been a challenge figuring out how he could spend hours at a time in the room without being noticed, particularly by Hermione. However, by stealing some Polyjuice Potion from Slughorn, he had been able to set Crabbe and Goyle up as lookouts._

_Every step Draco took towards completing the task he'd been assigned, another wave of darkness washed over his insides._ _It was taking its toll on him. He felt anger and rage like he hadn’t experienced in a long time, he wanted to lash out, wanted to scream about how unfair it all was. But he couldn’t and he didn’t._

_Hermione was the only thing keeping him afloat. When all he felt was pain and fear, he would lose himself in memories of her; he had relived their first time more often than he would ever admit. Draco never imagined he would be capable of loving someone so deeply, despite wondering how much time they would have left together._

* * *

Christmas was approaching fast, snow swirling against the icy windows once more. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armour; and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Hermione had become increasingly concerned about Draco. He sat alone at the Slytherin table most days, tired and pale, staring at his food rather than eating it. The boy who could usually be relied upon for some sort of dramatic entertainment or sarcastic comment had disappeared. The spark in him had been extinguished and she longed for it back.

They’d been meeting infrequently as he was usually busy with his task. Despite promising to keep her involved, Draco wouldn’t give any details about what he was actually doing. She hadn’t spoken to him about the cursed necklace, for fear of breaking him further than he already was, but it scared her that it appeared he really was trying to accomplish Voldemort’s ultimate goal.

Loud singing broke Hermione’s reverie as she remembered where she was: Slughorn’s Christmas party. His office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study; the ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

She leant against the wall, observing the other guests. Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket and paraded Harry around the room like a show pony.

Suddenly noticing Cormac McLaggen making his way towards her, licking his lips every now and then, Hermione shuddered and made to hide in the crowd.

“Harry! There you are, thank goodness!”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She linked her arm with his and pulled him in the direction of the drinks table. “Fine now you’re here.”

Picking up two goblets of mead, they turned to survey the room. Harry nudged her, “look who it is!”

Draco was being dragged by the ear towards them by Argus Filch. “Professor Slughorn,” wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, “I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?”

Pulling himself free of Filch’s grip, Draco looked furious. “All right, I wasn’t invited!” he said angrily. “I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”

Filch continued babbling with glee until Slughorn cut him off, waving a hand, “it’s quite alright Argus! It’s Christmas, and it’s not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we’ll forget any punishment, you may stay, Draco.”

His face had a grey-ish tinge to it and Hermione took a step towards him. It was only when he shook his head imperceptibly that she remembered herself.

“I’d like a word with you, Draco,” said Snape suddenly.

“Oh, now, Severus,” Slughorn cried, “don’t be too hard on the boy!”

“I am his Head of House,” Snape replied curtly. “Follow me, Draco.”

They left, Snape leading the way. Harry stood frozen to the spot for a moment before hurrying off into the crowd. Hermione tried to follow but he must have pulled his Invisibility Cloak out as he was nowhere to be found.


	22. Chapter 22

She hadn’t spent much time setting up the Room of Requirement to meet Draco that evening. All Hermione wanted was to get some explanations from him before they had to leave the castle for the holidays.

“What were you doing, roaming the corridors the other evening? I know for a fact you didn’t _actually_ want to gatecrash Slughorn’s party.”

“I was working on the task - you know I’m not going to tell you more than that.”

“Draco,” she pleaded, “you promised to keep me involved.”

He clutched her shoulders and, looking into her bright eyes, willed her to understand. “You already know too much, the less you know the better.” Draco sighed and pulled her into a tight hug, “and when things go wrong, you won’t have to feel the guilt.”

Hermione knew he was talking about Katie Bell. “Do you want to –”

“No, I don’t.”

It took everything she had not to push him further. She wasn’t sure if it was doing more harm than good by her avoiding the subject, but she just couldn’t look into his gaunt face and ask more questions.

“Harry overheard your conversation with Snape,” she told him.

“Fucking Potter, always sticking his nose in where it isn’t wanted.”

Hermione glowered, but continued, “he said that Snape wants to _help_ you Draco, that he made the Unbreakable Vow with your mother. Why on earth are you not taking advantage of that?”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, “I don’t trust him.”

“Fine, you don’t trust him, but –” she paused. “I know you shut me down on this before, but I still think going to Dumbledore might be our best option.”

“No, no, Granger, don’t you get it? I can’t risk my parents’ lives, my _mother’s_ life on the whims of a teacher.”

“Draco,” she swallowed, gazing into the eyes she loved so much, “you’re not really planning on _actually_ killing him, are – are you?”

There was a beat of silence. “No, no of course not.”

And what could she say to that?

Tucked beneath his arm, she sighed. “I wish we never had to leave this room."

Draco tightened his grip on her. “I know, and the amount of times I’ve thought about kidnapping you and running away to some remote island is getting silly.”

She smiled weakly and tried to relax her permanently tensed muscles. “I’ve got your Christmas present with me, by the way.”

“Gimme,” he said, poking her ribs. Hermione knew he was trying, a little too hard, to be playful for her sake, but she allowed it.

She pulled a box from her satchel and handed it to him, lying inside were two simple, silver rings.

“Are you _proposing_ to me, Granger?” Draco smirked, his first for a long time. “Shouldn’t you be on one knee?”

“You wish,” she huffed. “No, I’ve Charmed them so we can keep in contact more easily. You can transfigure one band to send a short message to the other, and they will heat up as an alert.”

He ran one of his slender fingers over the larger ring. “That’s amazing,” he murmured.

Hermione slipped her ring on and, tapping her wand to the metal, indicated for Draco to wear his and watch. The band warmed and three letters emerged, “ _ily_ ”

“Ily?” he asked in confusion.

She laughed and handed him a small square package. “Here’s your second present, a Muggle book on texting abbreviations!”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ll get there,” she said, enjoying the way her face stretched when she smiled. “So, where’s my present?”

“It’s not much,” he muttered, handing her a box similar in size to the one she gave him.

Hermione gasped. Draco was wrong. It was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery she had ever seen.

* * *

Despite knowing that he was staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, Hermione couldn’t help but worry about Draco. The only thing that prevented her from having a complete breakdown was the connection they shared through their rings.

This, however, quickly turned into the bane of her life. There were moments where she sorely regretted gifting him the joke Muggle book. It was only on the first day of the January term, however, when she received a series of symbols that looked suspiciously like a penis, that she seriously considered hexing him across the Great Hall. 

Dragging herself away from inappropriate ring messages, she tuned back into Harry confiding in her and Ron about his lessons with Dumbledore and the memory he needed to retrieve from Slughorn.

Ron thought that Harry was unlikely to have any trouble with Slughorn at all. “He loves you,” he said over breakfast, waving an airy forkful of fried egg. “Won’t refuse you anything will? Just hang back after class this afternoon and ask him.”

Hermione, however, took a gloomier view. “He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn’t get it out of him,” she said in a low voice. “Horcruxes… _Horcruxes_ … I’ve never even heard of them…”

Harry was disappointed; he had hoped that Hermione might have been able to give him a clue as to what Horcruxes were.

“They must be really advanced Dark magic, or why would Voldemort have wanted to know about them? I think it’s going to be difficult to get the information, Harry, you’ll have to be very careful about how you approach Slughorn, think out a strategy…”


	23. Chapter 23

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. Hermione was angrily pacing the corridor outside the Room of Hidden Things, her fists clenched tightly. She was exhausted, having spent most of the night with Ron in the hospital wing, and felt as though her heart had been torn in two.

Once Crabbe and Goyle had been scared off, she started banging furiously on the locked door. To her surprise it opened quickly, and she almost fell to the floor. Draco caught her and pulled her inside.

“What are you doing here?” he asked irritably.

Hermione took a step towards him and slammed her hands against his chest. He stumbled backwards, staring at her incredulously.

“It was _you_ , wasn’t it, Malfoy?”

“What!” he cried. She took another step forward and he held up his hands in surrender. “ _W_ _hat_ are you talking about?”

“I am talking about the poisoned mead.”

Draco blanched, panic flashed through his eyes. “How – how do you know about that?”

Her voice was cold as she replied, “you are the reason that Ron is in the hospital wing right now. He almost _died_.” He reached out to touch her, but she stopped him. “Don’t.”

“Hermione, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know...”

“No, but you knew _someone_ was going to drink it. That was the whole point, I imagine?”

He hung his head, unsure of what to tell her.

She continued, “I didn’t say anything about Katie Bell because you already looked so broken, and I thought it must have been an accident. You couldn’t really have meant to hurt her, or anyone else. Clearly I was mistaken.”

Draco could feel his anger rising, the barely contained rage was itching to be let lose. “Why can’t you understand that I don’t have a _choice_?”

“We could have gone to Dumbledore, Snape even. Surely, that would have been better than these ill-conceived plans. They could have hidden you and your parents, protected you, kept you all away from this!”

He clenched his jaw. “I’ve told you before, I don’t trust them.”

“Nor me, it seems,” Hermione said quietly. “ _Please_ let me help you, maybe we can come up with something else?”

There were at least a hundred thoughts running through his head, fighting to be the one spoken aloud. He wanted to hold her and say, ‘yes, okay, yes. I need you. I can’t do this without you. It’s going to be hard, but maybe there is another way.’

Instead, all he said was, “no.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“This is too much, I can’t do this right now,” Hermione whispered finally, tears rolling freely down her cheeks. “I _know_ how hard your life is at the moment Draco, but all you’ve done is push me away and now you’ve almost killed two students, one of which being my best friend.”

She made to walk away from him, but he caught her sleeve. “Please, Hermione,” he begged. “Please.”

It shocked her, the way he looked in that moment, his red rimmed eyes pleading silently with her to understand. She had never seen him look so vulnerable, and it almost stopped her from reaching for the door handle. Almost, but not quite.

Hermione shook her head and left.

* * *

_He stood in the sixth-floor boys’ bathroom, hands clenching one of the cold porcelain skins, his white-blonde head bowed. Draco’s eyes burned with tears. He hated to cry, detested any show of weakness, but he was powerless to control it._

_Draco slammed his hand viciously against the wall. He couldn’t take it anymore, everything was falling apart. He was a useless, waste of space, who wasn’t even able to get two items delivered to the right person, let alone fix a fucking cabinet. And the one person he thought was on his side couldn’t stand him, with good reason._

_“Don’t,” cried Moaning Myrtle’s voice from one of the cubicles. “Don’t… tell me what’s wrong… I can help you.”_

_“No one can help me,” Draco replied hoarsely, his whole body was shaking. “I can’t do it, I can’t. It won’t work… and unless I do it soon, he – he says he’ll kill me, after he’s killed my mother.”_

_The tears began streaming in earnest, leaving red hot tracks down his pale face; he swiped at them furiously. Draco gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Potter staring at him over his shoulder._

_Draco whirled around, instinctively drawing his wand, and Potter pulled out his own. His hex missed Hermione’s friend by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Potter threw himself sideways and flicked his wand, but Draco blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another –_

_“No! No! Stop it!” yelled Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. “STOP!”_

_There was a loud bang and the bin behind Potter exploded; he attempted a Leg Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Draco’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Myrtle, who screamed. Water poured everywhere and Potter slipped over as Draco, his face contorted in rage, screamed, “Cruci –”_

_“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Potter from the floor, waving his wand wildly._

_Blood spurted from Draco’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a crack, his wand falling from his limp right hand._

_“No –” gasped Potter._

_Slipping and sliding, Harry got to his feet and plunged towards Draco, whose face was now shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest._

_Draco wasn’t fully aware of what happened next. All he could think about was how, for a moment, he had genuinely hoped that Potter would kill him. Save him the trouble of having to live this cursed life for a moment longer._

_But, now that it was coming true, he only wanted to live. He_ needed _to live. For his mother, for Hermione._

_As he was lifted into the air, he grasped at the ring she had given him and held on to it as tightly as he could._


	24. Chapter 24

Hermione had been lying on her bed in the sixth-year girls’ dormitory, running the conversation with Draco over and over in her head. She was hurt, angry, and scared, but so was he. Making the decision to go back to him, heat suddenly emanated from her ring but no words appeared.

Panic coursed through her body as she raced from the common room, running down corridors and up staircases. Draco wasn’t in the Room of Hidden Things. Without quite knowing why, she turned and headed towards the hospital wing.

Quietly pushing the doors open, she saw a tall figure stride towards her. “I wondered whether I would be seeing you here this evening, Miss Granger.”

“Professor Snape,” she said, swallowing. “Where is he?”

Indicating to the furthest bed in the hospital wing, the Potions Master asked quietly, “how much has he told you?”

“Very little, he won’t let me help.”

“As I expected,” Snape said, nodding. Hermione was certain that she saw sadness flash across his features. “Do be careful Miss Granger, we cannot have a repeat of the last time I found the two of you in here.”

Ducking her head, she walked quickly over to the bed Draco was currently occupying. “ _Muffliato_ ,” she whispered, aware that Ron was asleep just a few beds down.

Hermione ran her fingers carefully across his forehead, brushing his fine hair back into place. She could see that his injuries were extensive; there was a strong smell of Dittany in the air and bandages covered his torso and arms.

“Draco, Draco,” she repeated his name over and over, like a prayer. “I’m so sorry. I was coming back for you. I shouldn’t have left.” A small sob left her mouth. “You needed me, and I left.”

He trembled and his eyes shot open. “What – where –”. He reached out, then winced in pain.

“Hey, it’s just me, don’t move too much.”

Hermione summoned a nearby chair and pulled it close to the side of the bed. “What _happened_ , Draco?”

Knowing the painful position it would put her in, he shook his head; they could talk about it later. “Soon,” he croaked. “I’m sorry, for pushing you out, for everything. I’m just so scared, I’m so fucking scared, all the time.”

“Will you tell me what you’re doing?” she asked hesitantly.

His eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment she wondered whether he had fallen asleep. “I’m trying to mend something for the Dar – for _him_.”

“Why? What is it?”

“It’s just a cabinet, and… I don’t know why,” he said, one truth for one lie.

Hermione nodded slowly, deciding not to push him further.

He lent his forehead against hers, wishing the pain wasn’t stopping him from wrapping his arms around her. “You’re everything to me, Hermione. I don’t exist without you.”

“You’ll never have to. We’re always going to have each other, Draco.”

* * *

Thanks to Snape’s counter-curse, he recovered relatively quickly. It was only a few days before he was able to leave the hospital wing.

When Hermione found out that it was Harry who had cursed Draco with the unknown _Sectumsempra_ spell, she was beyond furious. It was a particular challenge trying to suppress this to an acceptable level of annoyance in front of her Gryffindor friends. Although Draco’s schedule in the Room of Requirement had recently intensified, he was happy to help relieve her frustrations.

It was a few weeks later when Hermione’s ring warmed her finger and she saw a message flash up: ‘ _Libr 6pm_ ’.

After dinner that evening, she went directly to their quiet corner of the library. Draco was murmuring incantations under his breath and smiled proudly when he saw her. “Protective enchantments,” he explained. “So no one will stumble upon us.”

“Very clever,” she laughed. “Why are we here, rather than the Room of Requirement?”

His wand hand faltered almost imperceptibly. “Oh, I just needed a change of scene.”

She nodded and glanced around the space in surprise, he had been impossibly sweet. There was a large picnic blanket placed in the middle of the booklined corridor and fairy lights scattered amongst the shelves. With another flick of his wand, Draco summoned a variety of food from the school kitchens.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I offered compensation to all house-elves involved.”

Hermione laughed. “I love you.”

His smile widened, and her heart leapt at the sight.

They sat together, ate the perfectly prepared food, and talked about _normal_ things. It felt freeing. All topics of death and disaster were forbidden topics of conversation.

When they had finished the meal, he tilted her chin to his and claimed her mouth, his tongue sliding agonizingly slowly against hers. Draco maneuvered them until he pinned her to the floor, his chest pressing into hers, and their kisses became increasingly desperate.

Nipping and licking down her neck, he slipped a hand under her shirt, inhaling sharply when he realised she wasn’t wearing a bra. Rolling her breasts beneath his large hand, she arched back in pleasure; he interspersed massaging them with gently flicking her pebbled nipples.

Draco sucked her collarbone, leaving marks along her skin. Hermione’s breathing faltered as she ground her hips against his, the friction from their remaining clothes making his erection almost painful.

She reached down to grasp his hard length as he pushed his trousers off. Their kisses became rougher and more desperate as she stroked him slowly, a guttural groan tore from Draco’s chest. She pumped him in her fist and tightened her grip, brushing her thumb over the head of his cock.

“Hermione –” he breathed, his head falling against her chest.

As she continued, he pushed his hand under her skirt and into her knickers, cupping the heat between her thighs. He slid a finger between her slick folds, and she trembled as his thumb rubbed her clit in light circles.

Draco watched her closely as he added a second finger and pushed them deep inside of her. She let out a cry of pleasure, her body tingling with warmth, as he curled them against her front walls.

“Oh my God, Draco,” she moaned.

They both watched their hands, one pumping up and down, the other in and out.

Hermione murmured, "can I - can I try something?"

He nodded, swallowing as she moved down his body, leaving a trail of hot kisses on his skin, and reached his aching cock. He almost forgot how to breath as she brushed her tongue over the sensitive tip, before taking him slowly into her mouth.

“Fuck –”

She moved gradually up and down, her tongue curling along the silken length. She looked up at him, eyes wide, and lowered herself until he brushed the back of her throat. His whole body stiffened, and arousal dripped down her thigh knowing she was causing his reaction.

“I need to be inside you,” he groaned loudly, pulling her up and gripping her hips tightly, repositioning them so she was beneath him. Draco pushed her thighs apart with his knee and guided himself to her core. Clenching his jaw, he watched himself enter her and rocked slowly forwards.

“You are _mine_ ,” Draco growled as he thrust faster.

Hermione gasped, her hips bucking against him, pleasure building within her body. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” he repeated, firmly rubbing her clit with his thumb.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as heat pooled in her abdomen. Draco pumped further into her as she clenched around him. Her body shook and toes curled, muscles jerking with each aftershock. He groaned as her walls squeezed tightly, his thrusts becoming frantic, and he spilled into her.

Trembling in the aftermath of his release, Draco collapsed onto Hermione’s chest and held her close. Neither moved for a long while.

“Mine, mine…” he murmured over and over into her skin.

Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m yours, Draco, always.”

“Whatever happens?”

“Always,” she repeated gently.

* * *

Hermione woke abruptly in the dark library. Shivering, she reached over to pull Draco closer, but couldn’t find him. Her heart pounded, something felt wrong.

Grasping blindly for her wand she whispered, “ _Lumos_.”

The space beside her was empty.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've got to the end of Part II - thank you **so** much to everyone who has been reading, it means the world to me! 
> 
> I'm hoping to start uploading Part III in the next few days; I can't wait to share the next part of this journey with you :)

She leapt to her feet, looking frantically around the darkened room. Draco was nowhere to be seen. The only remnant of their evening together was the blanket they had slept on, everything else had been removed.

On shaky legs, Hermione ran to the doors of the library - she could hear shouting out in the hallway.

“Hermione?” Ron screamed. “ _Hermione!_ ”

She raced towards him and he grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Where have you _been_? Thank Godric you’re safe…”

“Safe?” she choked. “What are you talking about?”

Ron shook his head. “Not here,” he said. “Come with me.”

As they entered the hospital wing, Ron caught her hand with his and gave a weak smile. Hermione had to hold back a gasp as he nodded in the direction of one of the beds. Bill lay propped up on pillows and she could see a deep red gash sliced across his face.

Before she could move towards him, she was enveloped in a crushing hug. Ginny held onto her tightly. “We’ve been so worried about you,” she cried.

“I’m really sorry, Gin, I didn’t know,” Hermione mumbled. “What’s _happened_?”

Ginny stepped back and looked at the group that had formed around them. The entire Weasley family were present, as well as Lupin, Tonks, and Harry.

“That’s what we were just about to discuss,” Harry said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

There were suddenly so many voices talking at once, Hermione struggled to piece all of the information together.

From what she could gather, Draco had left her in the library to allow Death Eaters entry into the castle through the cabinet he had been attempting to fix - the one in the Room of Requirement. A battle had ensued once the Order and the DA had been alerted to intruders, this gave Draco the opportunity to slip away and complete his 'task'.

Eventually, Harry’s voice was the only one remaining. He said that he had heard fear in Draco’s voice as he confronted Dumbledore, and maintained that he was lowering his wand before the other Death Eaters arrived. In the end, it was Snape who had killed their Headmaster.

Silence fell and Hermione’s breath became shallow, like short panting gasps. Her vision blurred and her fingers tingled. She felt as though her heart might burst from her chest as she sunk slowly to the floor.

* * *

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days; others refused point-blank to leave without attending their Headmaster’s funeral.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were spending all of their time in each other’s company. The beautiful weather seemed to mock them; Hermione could imagine how it would have been if Dumbledore had not died, if Draco hadn’t abandoned her, and they had this time together at the very end of the year.

The feeling of betrayal was one of the hardest to endure. It caused physical pain, as though her heart really had been broken into two. Hermione replayed their last night together over and over in her mind, desperately seeking understanding, an explanation for why he had left her alone to enact Voldemort’s wishes.

She ruminated constantly about the unknown: what could she have done differently? Were there questions that should have been asked, conversations that should have been pushed? What if she had done what Draco asked her not to and confided in Dumbledore, could she have prevented everything that had occurred? Guilt hung heavy in her stomach.

Amongst the emotional upheaval, Hermione was also scared for Draco. Whilst the task was fulfilled, he was not the one to commit the unforgivable act. She could only assume that Snape had taken him back to the Manor - would he be punished or celebrated?

In an attempt to escape the pain, Hermione threw herself into researching the Horcrux that Harry and Dumbledore had retrieved from the cave. As hard as she tried and as many hours as she filled, she couldn’t figure out what R.A.B. might stand for.

* * *

It was a beautiful funeral. Hundreds of mourners arrived to pay their respects and honour the late Albus Dumbledore. Hermione’s tears had flowed readily until her eyes burned and she wasn’t sure who or what she was crying for anymore.

When she, Harry, and Ron finally had a moment alone, they were standing in the grounds looking up at the castle.

“I can’t bear the idea that we might never come back,” she said softly. “How can Hogwarts close?”

“Maybe it won’t,” Ron mused. “We’re not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere’s the same now. I’d even say Hogwarts is safer, there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d’you reckon, Harry?”

“I’m not coming back, even if it does reopen.”

Ron gaped at him, but Hermione smiled sadly. “I knew you were going to say that. But then what will you do?”

“I’m going back to the Dursley’s once more, because Dumbledore wanted me to,” Harry replied. “It'll be a short visit, and then I’ll be gone for good.”

“But where will you go if you don’t come back to school?”

“Then I’ve got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven’t I? That’s what he wanted me to do, that’s why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right – and I’m sure he was – there are still four of them out there. I’ve got to find them and destroy them and then I’ve got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort’s soul, the bit that’s still in his body, and I’m the one who’s going to kill him.”

There was a long silence. The crowd had almost fully dispersed.

It was Ron who spoke first, “we’ll be there, Harry.”

“What?”

“At your aunt and uncle’s house, and then we’ll go with you, wherever you’re going.”

“No –”

“You said to us once before,” Hermione said quietly, linking hands with them both, “that there was a time to turn back if we wanted to. We’ve had time, haven’t we?”

“We’re with you, whatever happens,” Ron added.


End file.
